


The Whispers of Demons

by Lunas_Secret_Lover



Category: South Park
Genre: Crenny, Gay, Hate to Love, M/M, Multi, Slash, Slow Burn, Smut, South Park Phone Destroyer, creek - Freeform, south park - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunas_Secret_Lover/pseuds/Lunas_Secret_Lover
Summary: Craig Tucker is a youth pastor in a poor, troubled town.  He loves his job, feels guilty for his sins, and tends to his flock like any good pastor would.  Until the day an imp shows up, offering to change his life for the better in exchange for just one little thing... renouncing god and worshipping Satan.  He pushes off the imp at first, but as he starts to accept help, he changes lives, makes friends, and finds himself feeling saved.  Is it an illusion created by evil?  Or is the imp the best thing that's ever happened to him?  Craig's not sure.  He just knows that the demon has a very, very, cute ass.





	1. Chapter 1

Craig sat shuffling the permission slips in front of him.  More kids than usual had signed up. About the same amount as always had paid.  He sighed, sorting the forms with checks stapled to them from the lighter ones. He’d find the money somewhere.  The annual cabin trip was a good excuse for the kids to get out of their poor, often broken, homes. He wasn’t going to let money be an issue.  He rubbed his forehead, scowling at his desk, eyes falling shut. A gentle knock echoed through his office. 

 

“Come in,” he called, hastily pushing the piles together.  A frail girl with huge eyes and unkempt hair opened the door.  “Karen. You’re here late.”

 

She smiled, eyes darting around the room.  “I’m sorry, Pastor Tucker.”

 

“Don’t be.  You’re always welcome.  Can I help you?”

 

Karen shuffled from foot to foot.  “It’s about Kenny.”

 

“Your brother?”  She nodded.

 

“Pastor- he wants me to live with him.”

 

Craig laced his fingers together, studying her face.  “And do you want to live with him?” The answer was clear on her face, smothered in guilt.  “You’re worried about your parents.”

 

“They’re still pretty mad at him.  For leaving. They say if I leave too the house’ll fall apart.”  A familiar flash of anger hit Craig and he swallowed it down, hoping it didn’t show on his face.

 

“It’s your choice, Karen.  No one can make it for you.”  He paused, organizing his thoughts.  “But your parents are old enough that they can sink or swim on their own.  If you’d be happier with… Kenny?” She nodded. “If you’re happier with him, that’s where you should be.”

 

Karen nodded, thin face solemn.  “Okay. Thank you, pastor.” 

 

“Are you coming on the cabin trip?”  Her face reddened.

 

“No- not this time.  I- I have too much to do here.” 

 

Craig lied, saying a silent prayer for forgiveness.  “Kenny sent in a check for you. He must be able to step in for you at home.  You should go.”

 

“I-I’ll think about it.”  She pushed her long hair from her eyes and walked to the door without looking at him.  “I’ll see you later. Thanks!”

 

He waved, making a mental note to give child services another call about the McKormicks.  He let his eyes slip closed for a moment, falling into his meditative breath, the only thing that chased out the anger.  Wrath is a sin, he reminded himself. Even when it seemed righteous. Being angry would help no one. Still he couldn’t help it when he thought of Karen’s wide, frightened eyes, full of guilt and shame.  She was too young for that look. He opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut again in a jolt of ugly surprise. When he opened them, he saw the same strange sight he thought he’d seen a moment before.

 

A good-looking young man sat in front of him, a little older than his church kids, but in his early twenties at most, wearing nothing but a pair of tight leather jeans.  His hair was a wild mess of yellow curls that stuck up at all angles around his pointed face, and he smelled like cigarettes. His gaze darted around the room, his face twitching every few moments or so.  His features were pointed, almost dramatically, and dark circles clung beneath his gray eyes. Craig had never seen him before. He would have remembered the dark red wings protruding from his back and the horns sticking out of his forehead.  

 

“Did Bill put you up to this?” Craig asked, his voice surprisingly level.  He wanted- no, he needed- to believe that this was a costume, that the strange heat in the air was a trick in his mind.  But it wasn’t. He felt the darkness. It laughed, a breathy, nervous sound that chilled Craig to his core.

 

“Is that what you’re calling him these days?”  The creature asked in a high-pitched and fast-paced voice.  “We usually just call him Satan.”

 

Craig gulped, forcing himself not to look away.  “What are you doing here?”

 

The thing twitched.  “That’s a little rude, don’t you think?  I thought everyone was welcome here.”

 

“Every  _ soul _ is welcome here,” Craig said coldly.  It twitched again. “This is a place of worship.”

 

“AH!” it screamed.  Craig jumped. “Well the sign says every _ one. _  I go by written words, Pastor Tucker.  My master says the spoken word changes too much.”

 

“What do you want.”

 

The demon- for what else could he be?- pulled at the tip of his wing.  “To- AH! To persuade you. You’re on the wrong side. I’m here to get you to- AH! Change teams.”

 

“I’d rather die,” Craig said, feeling the familiar rush of rage in his chest.  “Get out. Now.”

 

The demon stared at him, cocking his head to the side.  “You’re pretty brave for a human.” Craig stared. “I thought you’d cower.  Beg for your life- nnnhg- or something.”

 

“If you’re here to kill me, kill me.  But if you think for a second I’m going to denounce my god-”

 

“AH! You don’t have to denounce anything.  I’m just asking you to listen.”

 

“No.”

 

The demon smiled.  “Doesn’t have to be now, dude.  I’m your personal imp. I got nowhere else to be.  You just let me know when you’re ready.”

 

Craig lifted his bible on a silly impulse, holding out toward the imp, who merely blinked and twitched again.  Craig sighed, not taking his eyes off the creature as he gathered his papers from his desk and packed his backpack.  He was tired, that was all. He was personifying his personal demons into an attractive hallucinated imp. He walked to his car, ignoring the figment of his imagination that trailed him.

 

“You know, if you just talk to me we’ll get this over with sooner.”  Craig started the car and backed up, not bothering to look for cars behind him.  He accelerated, leaving skid marks behind him. “Christians are so closed-minded.  Won’t listen to anything that disagrees with their world-view.”

 

Craig bit his tongue.  His middle finger itched. It had been years since he’d flipped anyone off, and he wasn’t going to break his streak on what was clearly either a. A figment of his imagination or b. An actual demon from hell.  In South Park it was hard to tell the difference. 

 

“Could you at least change the station?” the imp whined from the passenger seat, drumming his fingers together.  Craig felt his eyebrows lower another half an inch, then looked down at the speedometer. Fifty miles an hour in a twenty-five.  He slowed down, loosening his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. The imp reached up and fiddled with the dials. Pop music filled the car.

 

“Do all demons have bad taste in music?” he asked.  The imp grinned in triumph.

 

“Knew there was something I could do to make you talk.”  Craig pulled into the apartment lot and jumped out of the car.  To his chagrin, the imp followed. “Come on, Craig. Let’s talk.”

 

“Pastor Tucker is just fine.”  Craig walked quickly, up the stairs with his apartment key already between his fingers.  He fumbled with the lock, then jumped inside, slamming the door before the imp could follow.  He sighed in relief, then groaned as he turned and saw the imp waiting behind him. “I thought I had to invite you in or something.”   
  


“Nope, that’s vampires,” the imp said, cleaning his claws.  “I like what you’ve done to the place.” Craig looked around.  His studio was sparse, with a tiny kitchen in one corner and a bed in the other.  Two rooms total, if you counted the bathroom. The imp was mocking him. Craig scowled.

 

“It seems perfect for the company I’m entertaining tonight.”   
  
“No I mean it,” the imp said, gesturing to the walls.  They were covered in drawings and notes, from stick-figures to tigers painted with budding talent.  There was hardly a blank spot on the walls anywhere these days. Craig sighed, suspiciously scrutinizing the demonic figure.

 

“My children are talented,” he said grudgingly.  The imp sat on the foot of the bed, staring at him.  Eventually, Craig’s years of getting people to talk to him won out.  “What’s your name?”

 

“Tweek.”

 

“ _ Tweek _ ?”  The demon glared at him.  “Alright. If I ask you what you want, will you go away?”   
  


“If you let me tell you.”  

 

“Fine.  Give me your speech.”  

 

“You’ve tried to do the right thing the past ten years.  I like that. Your standards for the right thing might be archaic and based on bullshit, but I can appreciate the effort.  You’ve saved countless children from bitter, short lives, often at your own expense. And we want you to keep doing that. All my master wants you to do differently is drop the God shit and pick up some Satan shit.”

 

Craig blinked at him.  “I’m a youth pastor in a small rural Colorado town.  Why, of all people, is the devil interested in trying to change my mind?”

 

Tweek smiled, and Craig felt his heart stop.  That crooked smile, trembling and uncertain- how could an evil being literally from hell have a smile like that?  “Because you’re talented, Craig. You do so much convincing, and you have a way of making people love you. My master wants to use you- for good.”

 

Craig laughed.  He couldn’t help himself.  The situation was just so ridiculous, so other-wordly, that he sat beside the demon on the bed and laughed and laughed, clutching his knees to keep himself seated.  When he finally got control of himself, he glanced at the imp, whose smile was untouched by his outburst. “Alright, I listened to your speech, imp. Get out.”

 

“Oh,” Tweek said, smile growing.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“But you said if I listened-”

 

“I’m an imp,” Tweek said slowly.  “I came from hell. You’ve got a masters in religious studies, and you’ve been reading the bible since you were sixteen.  Did you really forget that Satan is the ‘father of all lies?’”

 

“You- lied to me?” Craig asked, feeling oddly hurt.  “If you wanted to convince me of anything, you wouldn’t have lied.”

 

“I’ve been watching you, Pastor.  I know you. I’m not going to convince you of anything with just words.  But before this is over, I will convince you.” Craig felt his face growing hot, familiar rage bubbling to the surface.  This time, he couldn’t hold his fingers down. He aimed both rude gestures directly at the imp’s face. Tweek only laughed.  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

 

~

 

Craig did sleep, despite everything.  The imp disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared the first time, leaving Craig alone to wonder if he was going insane.  He didn’t think he was. But did anyone who was truly insane know they were insane? Probably not. He lay down, contemplating his insanity, wondering what the moral thing to do was if he had really gone crazy, and before he knew it, he was waking to his alarm.  He made himself his customary breakfast of coffee and cereal and sat at his tiny table, which was littered with mail and bills. He brushed them to the side and noticed a pile of hundred dollar bills. His heart thumped in his chest as he saw the black piece of paper with red writing beside the money.

 

_ Pastor Tucker- _

_ I trust you know where this is needed most.  It’s yours to do with what you will; no one will come looking for it.  And spending it won’t send you directly to Hell in a Handbasket- haha. _

_ It was nice to finally meet you in person.  Your file doesn’t do you justice. _

_ I’ll see you again soon. _

_ T _

 

Shaking, he counted the money.  Four thousand dollars. He could pay for every single child that wanted to go to summer camp.  Four thousand dollars could buy clothes and food for most of his kids for a few months. Or, hell, he couldn’t deny he was thinking it, it could pay for months of his rent.  He shoved the last thought from his mind. He couldn’t spend this money. This was evil money, money from the devil himself. The best thing to do would be to burn it. He turned on his electric stove, staring at the bills in his hand.  The coils glowed red. He wondered if Hell looked like that. He felt the heat rising up, curling tendrils around his hand, and the money clenched there. This kind of money could change a struggling family’s life. He turned off the stove and rubbed at the worry lines on his forehead.  The bills felt like they were made of lead. 

 

Craig’s phone began to buzz, and he snatched it, grateful for the distraction.

 

“Pastor Tucker speaking.”  

 

“Hi, Pastor,” a shaky voice said.  “It’s Karen.”

 

“Karen,” Craig said.  He glanced at the money.  “Did you leave? Are you safe?”

 

“I tried,” she said.  Her voice crinkled with static and he realized she was whispering.  “I-I’m in my room now, but it was bad, sir.” The static exploded as she heaved in a long breath.  “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been praying, but- maybe I’m not doing it right.”

 

Craig closed his eyes, trying to think.  “Will they follow you to Kenny’s?”

 

“No.”  Craig waited.  “They’re high now.  I don’t think they remember I was going to leave.  They’ll only care if they can stop me.”

 

Craig stood, taking the two steps to his dresser and grabbing a pair of pants.  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t leave your room until I call you.” 

 

He hung up, not giving her a chance to say no, then pulled on his clothes as quickly as he could.  He sprinted to his car, then drove to the dilapidated old shack on the outskirts of town. Craig hit the call button, his fingers shaking.  He could hear screeching noises coming from the house even from his car. The call rang once, then went straight to voicemail. Craig scrambled from the car without thinking and headed toward the house.  Something told him that if he didn’t hurry, it would be too late. He pounded on the door, then pushed it open. His mouth fell open at the scene in front of him.

  
  


A woman with wild red hair and high color in her cheeks stood atop an unraveling couch with a chair in her hands.  She screamed profanities at the man on the other side of the room, who snarled at her like a wild animal. The couple had empty eyes, with no life behind them, and neither seemed to notice Craig’s uninvited arrival into their home.

 

“You stupid asshole,” the woman shrieked.  “That was the last of the crystal. You said you’d save me half!”   
  
“You had yours first, you crazy bitch,” the man said, shaking a plastic bag with a few grains of white powder inside.  “The rest was mine by right.”   
  
“I paid for that with my own goddamn money because you can’t hold down a job.  I never should have married you.”   
  
“And whose fault is that?  You keep gettin’ me too high to look fer work!”  The woman screamed again and threw the chair at the man.  He covered his head and the chair broke on the wall behind him.  “Goddamn psycho whore!”   
  
“Dirty hobo!  And what the hell do you want?  You a fuckin’ cop?” Craig started as he realized the question was directed at him.

 

“Er- no,” he said, hand clenched tightly around the money in his pocket.  “I’m here to see Karen.”

 

“Great, now she’s got older men tryin’ to make it with her,” Karen’s father mumbled.  

 

“She’s in the back,” Mrs. McKormick said, shooing him from the room.  “First door on the right.” Craig stumbled down the hallway, still feeling like a fist was clenched around his heart, constricting and restricting his bloodflow to his brain.  He wanted to run out of the house. He wanted to punch Mr. McKormick straight in his dead-eyed face. Instead, he knocked at the door near the end of the narrow hall, trying to ignore the commotion from the living room. It opened instantly, revealing Karen’s wide, haunted eyes and dirty face.  A new pink bruise lit up her left eye.

 

“Pastor Tucker,” she said, eyebrows lifting in surprise.  They both flinched as something crashed against a wall and Mr. McKormick started screaming again.  “What are you doing here?”

 

Craig hoped his voice sounded steady and in-control, adult, if he was lucky, but to him it sounded like a church mouse’s squeak.  “We’re getting you to Kenny’s. Do you have a bag packed?” Karen nodded, hefting up a backpack. The rest of the room was bare. Craig swallowed another flash of anger.  “How do we get out?”

 

“I know a way,” Karen said.  She grabbed Craig’s hand and pulled him into the hall, glancing nervously toward the living room.  The noises continued, and she led the way to a different room. “This used to be Kenny’s. There’s a way out in the closet.”  The room had needles and pipes scattered haphazardly around the floor and something that looked disturbingly like feces on the wall, but the closet seemed untouched.  A picture of a woman with large breasts hung near the ground, and Karen pulled it back to reveal a hole, with sunlight glittering through. She went first, her hand never letting go of Craig’s as she led them through, into a backyard littered with junk and various car parts.  Together, they walked through the garage.   
  


“What happened here?” Craig asked, despite himself, seeing the test-tubes and glass covered with dust.  A strange chemical smell hung in the air.

 

“You don’t want to know,” Karen said.  She gave him an apologetic grin, then tugged him back outside.  As they reached Craig’s car, the front door started to open.

 

“Hurry,” he said, pushing the key into the ignition.

 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going with my daughter?”  the red-headed woman screamed, running toward them. Karen jumped into the car, and Craig sped away, leaving both of her parents alone on the lawn.  

 

~~

 

Kenny lived close to Craig, as it turned out, in the neighboring apartment complex.  As they walked to his building, Craig said a silent prayer that he wasn’t taking Karen from one bad situation to another.  When Kenny’s door opened, Craig wasn’t much assuaged. A tall, chubby young man with a blue beanie and a scruffy beard opened the door.  

 

“Oh-ho.  What do we have over nyah?  I’m sorry, I don’t believe we ordered any fags delivered today.  Kinnney,” he called over his shoulder.

 

“What?” a muffled voice shouted back.  

 

“Did we order a fag for delivery?”  The man turned back to Craig and seemed to notice Karen for the first time.  “Oh, just kidding, Kinney it’s your sister. Hey Kare-bear.”

 

“Hi, Cartman,” Karen said, grinning. “Can I talk to Kenny?”

 

“Do you live with Karen’s brother?” Craig asked, incredulous.  

 

“Kinney!  Karen wants to talk to you.”  Blue beanie man looked Craig over again and smirked.“Yes.  And who might you be?”

 

“This is Pastor Tucker,” Karen said, putting a hand on his arm protectively.  “And he brought me here. So be nice.”

 

“Who did that?” Cartman asked, gesturing toward her eye.

 

“No one.”   
  


“Right,” Cartman said, raising an eyebrow.  “Better tell ‘em to fuckin’ hide or I’ll kick ‘em in the nuts.”  A thin man who looked no older than seventeen with haunted blue eyes that could only belong to Karen’s brother appeared behind Cartman and pulled his sister into a long embrace.  His clothes were clean, but threadbare, with holes spattered across the back of his shirt and the side of his jeans. “Get a room, gaywads.”

 

“Literally my sister, dude,” Kenny said, rolling his eyes.  Cartman appeared to get bored, and hobbled off toward the couch.  The young man pulled Karen away and examined her. “Are you hurt?”

 

“Not really,” Karen said.  For the first time there were tears in her eyes, and Craig glanced away.  “Pastor Tucker got me out before it got too bad.”   
  


Kenny’s piercing eyes turned to Craig, and before Craig knew it, he was crushed in a tight embrace, the smell of cigarettes enfolding him.  He hugged Kenny back gingerly. “Thank you. So much. Come in. Please.” 

 

Craig stepped into the apartment, feeling a little better.  Cartman eyed him from the couch, smirk still plastered to his face.  Craig stared at him passively, his middle fingers itching, until the fatter man looked away.  The apartment was nice, nicer than his, in any case. It had a large living room and kitchen, and a hallway wide enough that there were clearly two bedrooms.  Craig felt his worries begin to slip. Kenny fussed over Karen for a few minutes, turning her face to examine the bruises and dirt. He grabbed her backpack and disappeared into the hallway, returning with two pink bottles of shampoo.  

 

“Herbal Essence!” Karen said, looking them over excitedly.  “How’d you even know I’d come?”   
  


“I hoped you would, eventually,” Kenny said.  “I got a few things- just a few, don’t get excited.  Do you want to shower? We’ve got hot water.”   
  
Karen’s eyes grew huge and she nodded, taking the bottles carefully, like they were made of glass, and heading into the bathroom.  

 

“Sit down, Pastor,” Kenny said, grinning broadly.  Craig sat at the table, trying to avoid Cartman’s gaze.  “Ignore him. He’s not used to polite company.”

 

“Who could be, living with you?” Cartman grumbled.  He flicked a lighter a few times, then walked past the table and out the front door.

 

“How do you afford this place?” Craig wondered aloud.  

 

“We just moved,” Kenny admitted.  “I’m working on my degree online and I found an internship that pays a little above minimum wage.  Cartman pays for more than his share-” Craig raised an eyebrow. “-but even still we’re late with rent sometimes.  I just wanted to get something big enough that Karen could stay.”

 

“Your parents don’t seem like the parents of the year,” Craig said before he could stop himself.  Kenny nodded, frowning.

 

“They’re dickheads, for sure.  How’d you get her out of there?”   
  


“Through the hole in your room.”

 

Kenny grinned again.  “Oh yeah, from the Mysterion days.”

 

“The what?”   
  


“Nevermind.  Look, thank you again.  I think she’ll be happy here.  She’s a smart kid. I want to try to set up a college fund for her.  So that she can go to a real school.”

 

“I’m glad she’s safe.”  Craig’s hand curled again around the money in his pocket, and he made a decision.  “I want to give you this,” he said, pulling the wad of cash out.

 

“What’d you do, rob a bank?” Kenny asked, tone light.  His eyes hardened.

 

“I got it from- from someone I know.  Use it. For you and for Karen. Get yourselves some new clothes.  Maybe start that college fund. Anything you want.”   
  


“I don’t need charity, Pastor.”

 

“It’s not- look, it’s not even my money.  It’s yours. I feel that. The lord wants you to have it.  Take it, and take care of her. If you’ve got the money to spare in a few years, do the same for someone else.  But please. Take it.” Kenny looked at him for a long moment, then sighed and nodded.

 

“I can’t say I don’t need it.  Thank you. I can’t ever repay you for this.”

 

“Just do better than your parents did.”  Kenny nodded slowly again, his bright eyes locked on Craig’s face.  “God bless you, Mr. McKormick. I know you’ll do right by her.”

 

“God hasn’t done shit for me.  But you have. Stop by again sometime.  We’d love to have you.” 

 

_ I’m sure Cartman would, _ Craig thought before chastising himself.  He was so judgemental. He’d have to repent for that later.  “I will. Thank you.” Kenny led him to the door, giving him a handshake that felt strangely formal after the embrace they’d shared earlier.  Once he arrived at his car, he sat, gripping the steering wheel tightly and closing his eyes. His heart was still beating faster than usual, and he wondered for a moment how Karen and Kenny had survived to near adulthood at that madhouse.  When he opened his eyes, he found he wasn’t surprised to see the imp next to him in the front seat.

 

“AH! Well?  What’d I tell you?  I knew you’d put it to good use.”

 

“It was a one-time thing,” Craig grumbled.  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Sure,” Tweek agreed, giving him that vulnerable half-smile that made tingles run up his spine.  “So how’d it feel?”

 

Craig sighed, somehow finding the courage to meet the demon’s eyes.  “Like I was finally doing something good.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Craig pulled into the parking lot.  The demon sat beside him, for once reticent, but as Craig exited the car, so did Tweek.  Craig found he didn’t mind. He walked to his door, glancing sideways over his shoulder to see if the imp was following.  Apprehension and excitement whirled around in his stomach. He felt ill. He stepped inside, unsure of what he’d find, but his normal, barely furnished apartment stared back at him, reproachful.  

 

“So I took your money,” Craig said. “Now what?”

 

“Now nothing,” Tweek said, sitting on top of Craig’s cluttered table.  “I told you, it didn’t mean anything. It was just a sample of what you could have.  If you joined us.”

 

“Not going to happen,” Craig said, rolling his eyes.  Papers folded and crumpled. He winced. “‘ Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.’  So sayeth the lord. Do you believe the voice of scripture, Tweek?”

 

“I believe the men that wrote it had good intentions,” Tweek said, pulling at a particularly unruly strand of hair.  “I don’t believe they were necessarily inspired.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“They were goat herds trading stories, caught up in superstition and intrigue.  Who knows what was fact and what was the latest rumour for a mysterious disappearance?”

 

“Afraid I’ll try to resist you and force you to flee?” Craig asked.  He squeezed his eyes into tiny lines and focused on willing the demon to leave.  When he opened them, the imp was still solidly crumpling the papers under his ass.  

 

“I’m hard to get rid of.  But you’re cute when you try.  Feel free to go again.”

 

Craig felt his cheeks color, and raised a hand with his middle finger extended toward the imp.  Tweek merely giggled. “I’ll get rid of you yet, imp.”

 

“Maybe so.” Tweek cocked his head, pulling at his long blond hair again.  “AH! Maybe you get rid of me and never see another demon in your life. You’ll remember.”  
  
“Right,” Craig said.  He sighed and reached for his bible.  Tweek snatched it from his hands and flipped it open to a page near the beginning. 

 

“And the LORD god said, ‘It is not good for man to be alone.’  Here I was thinking you listened to this silly book like it was, well, scripture.  And yet you live alone, you sleep alone, you’re alone every moment you’re not with children.”  Tweek grinned a very smug grin. “Looks like you’re already closer to the other side than you thought.”

 

“That’s not a commandment,” Craig said, frowning.  “It’s an observation.”

 

“From God.  An observation from God that you ignore.  What gives?” Craig remained silent, blinking at the imp.  “Come on, Pastor. Even God said it’s not good for man to be alone.  Why are you alone?”

 

“I have the children.”

 

“The children have you.  Honestly. Why?”

 

Craig looked away.  Grudgingly, he said, “Some people need to be alone.  I don’t play well with others in close-quarters. It’s never worked out.  I serve the lord instead and my life is great.”

 

“Is it great?”

 

“Yes.”  Craig sighed, rubbing his forehead.  “Maybe not great, but it’s good. I’m fulfilled enough.  I don’t have enough time in my life for anyone else. I’m happy serving others- why am I explaining myself to you?  You’re the last person- the last  _ thing  _ I should be justifying my life to.”

 

“Hurtful,” Tweek said, his grin widening until the cheshire cat would have been impressed.  “Don’t justify. Change. You deserve to be happy too, pastor. Asceticism doesn’t suit you.”

 

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure as my imp you just want me to be happy.”  Tweek dramatically fell backwards onto the table, sending papers flying across the room. 

 

“What do  _ you  _ want, Pastor Tucker?”

 

“I want you to give my bible back.  I’ve got a sermon to plan.” 

 

~~

 

Craig sat in his bed with his bible in his lap, a page full of scribbled half-thought out ideas beside him.  He flipped through the book with a fevered fervor, flitting between New Testament platitudes and Old Testament stories that needed a little tweeking to fit the morals of the modern age.  Eventually he settled on the story of Mary and Martha.

 

“Good choice,” the imp said, shattering the silence that had lasted nearly forty minutes.  “Pick the story that reduces the female characters to shrews and harlots.”

 

“Different Mary,” Craig said without looking up.  “Though you’re right enough about Martha. So what’s your story?  How’d you get stuck as my personal demon?” 

 

“I’ll tell you that if you tell me what happened with Todd.”  Craig paused in his note-taking.

 

“Wasn’t that in my  _ file _ ?”

 

“Not in enough detail to understand.  You were together. Then you weren’t. I wasn’t given any of the inbetween.”

 

“Well,” Craig said.  He cleared his throat, swallowed, then tried again.  “There’s not much more to it. We were together. Then we weren’t.  Isn’t that how most relationships end? Things were good. Until they weren’t.  He couldn’t handle my job. I couldn’t give him the attention he needed. Things fell apart.  So it goes.”

 

Tweek cocked his head, playing with his hair.  Craig felt a rush flow through him at the sight.  His eyes caught Tweek’s chest. For someone- some _ demon- _ so thin, there was too much definition.  It was unnatural, no doubt part of his hellish powers, but the imp’s slight frame set with obvious muscle… Craig couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before.  It was almost like the demon had been designed, even physically, to tempt him. “Why weren’t they?”

 

“What?” Craig asked, startled out of his daydream.  

 

“Why weren’t they good anymore?”  
  
Craig glared into the demon’s eyes.  They were a sharp blue. Very pretty eyes, not that it mattered.  “You know, I’m not curious enough about your back story to spill my soul.”  
  


Tweek giggled.  “Not yet, pastor.”

  
  
  


Craig ignored his guest for the rest of the night, despite Tweek’s best efforts to distract him.  The imp fluttered around the room, alternating between pouting and pulling at Craig’s hair until Craig smacked him away.  He finally settled on a ceiling pipe, hanging down by his feet with his wings curled around him like a bat and closed his eyes.  Craig, finally finished with his sermon, watched. Tweek’s spiked hair hung around his face. His mouth hung open, a thin stream of drool running from it.  Tweek looked smaller in his sleep, less like an annoying demon and more like a vulnerable man. Craig felt something stir within him, and quickly shut off the light before he could figure out just what it was.  He fell asleep to the soft sounds of Tweek’s snores.

 

The imp’s presence settled into something almost normal.  He was usually gone when Craig woke up, and sometimes there was a note and a pile of cash.  Craig didn’t spend any more of the money, but he saved it in his underwear drawer, just in case.  Tweek would usually reappear in the afternoon, and they’d spend the night talking together before Tweek hung from the exposed pipe and closed his eyes.

 

About a week after the imp’s first appearance, Craig woke to a rapping at the door.  He cursed as he fumbled for a hat to hide his messy hair and pushed the blanket over the bed before stumbling to the door.  He swallowed his annoyance when he saw Kenny McCormick looking sheepish.

 

“I never thanked you properly for the other day,” Kenny said without preamble.  

 

“No need, I was happy to do it,” Craig said.  They stared at one another for a long, awkward moment.  “Can I do something for you, Kenny?”

 

“Um…”  Kenny studied him as if trying to decide something.  “You ever gotten high, pastor?”   
  


Craig laughed in surprise.  “It’s been a good many years since anyone’s asked me that.  Yes, I did. Back before I became a pastor.”

 

“Well… would you like to get high with me?”  

 

“On what?”

 

“Weed, obviously,” Kenny scoffed, rustling a hand through his thick, unkempt hair.  “I don’t touch anything else. I’ve seen my parents.”

 

Craig considered for a moment, but then he remembered he’d spent the better part of the previous night staring at an imp hanging from his ceiling.  “Yeah. Come in.” 

 

They sat cross-legged on the floor as Kenny loaded a pipe with ground marijuana.  He pulled a lighter from his pocket and offered both to Craig. Craig lit the center and took a long drag off the pipe.  His tongue burned and his throat itched, and he coughed it all back up. Still gasping for breath, he handed the pipe to Kenny through watery eyes.  Kenny took a hit like a pro and blew smoke rings toward the ceiling.

 

“That’s good shit,” Kenny said through a mouthful of smoke. Craig felt the pipe being pressed into his hands again.  He swallowed the rest of his cough and took another, smaller, hit. This time he managed to hold the smoke in for a couple seconds before choking it back out.  Kenny laughed, almost like he was marveling. “Really has been a long time, huh?”

 

“I like to set a good example for the kids.  Doesn’t do to have one’s mind constantly muddled.”

 

“So noble.”  Kenny took another hit, blowing a puff of pungent air in Craig’s face. “Glad I could break your good streak.” 

 

Craig grinned, wishing, just for a moment, that Tweek could be there just for the irony.  “Yeah, yeah. How’s Karen?”  
  
Kenny’s face lit up.  “She’s great. She loves my place.  Her school’s a five minute walk from here.  She’s got to sleep on the couch for now but I don’t even think she minds.”

  
  


“I’m sure she’s just glad she’s got a place to go where she won’t get beat,” Craig said, taking the pipe again.  He took another huge hit, feeling the smoke burn his lungs. He exhaled, holding back his instinct to cough with every ounce of will he had.  “A place where someone cares about her and wants her there.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Kenny said, eyebrows pressing together.  “I’m glad to have her, don’t get me wrong. But I never could have gotten her to leave without your help.  I mean it.”  
  
“She would have left on her own eventually,” Craig said, uncomfortably shifting from side to side.  He felt warm, like a glow was spreading from his lungs through his whole body. Above him, tendrils of smoke curled lazily over one another, clouding the ceiling.  He watched them, fascinated. “You got out, didn’t you?”

 

Kenny’s face grew serious.  “Yeah, I got out. But not alone.  I don’t think any of us, except maybe Kevin, could have gotten out alone.  My parents- well let’s just say they can be very convincing when they’re afraid they’re going to lose something.  They cared more about my leaving then they will about Karen’s, though. I had a job, and they stole my savings whenever they could.”

 

“I don’t know how any of you survived.”  Craig found his mind beginning to wander, much as he tried to stop it.  His thoughts were growing fuzzy, and the warm, contented feeling spread.  

 

“Do you have any food?” Kenny asked.  

 

Craig grinned and pulled himself to his feet.  The world swam around him as he walked to the freezer and pulled out a pizza.  “The lord provides even to the least of those his servants.”   
  


Kenny groaned.  “No more bible talk.  I’m not here to be converted.”  Craig set the oven and put the pizza in.

 

“Why are you here, then?” 

 

“I told you.  To thank you.”  Kenny paused for a moment, glancing around the room.  “I thought someone who’d do something like what you did for Karen would be worth getting to know.”  
  
“Ah,” Craig said, smiling.  “Well someone who would take in his sister is probably also worth getting to know.  I’m glad you’re here. I’m afraid I don’t get much adult company these days.”

 

They drifted into easy silence.  Craig pressed his hands together, amazed at the familiar sensation.  He could feel the pressure, the heat between his hands, and wondered why he didn’t touch them more often.  His skin tingled with awareness, and he was certain he’d be able to feel the slightest breeze. He glanced at his guest.  Kenny’s eyes were closed, and his lips pressed tightly together. His hands rested on his thighs, and he hummed softly to himself.  Craig watched, fascinated. He glanced at the clock and found only two minutes had gone by. His stomach grumbled loudly enough to wake the whole building.

 

On impulse, Craig stood and grabbed his bible.  He opened it to a random page and began to read the beginning of the story of Moses.  The story was different with his mind alight, more intriguing. He’d read it a thousand times- what self-respecting preacher hadn’t?- but it had never felt like this.  How could a king, one Moses would later see as a father, kill every male infant under a certain age? How could Moses, knowing this, continue to love the Pharaoh? The bible was all well and good, but sometimes Craig ached for more details of the lives of the prophets.  It needed less passages about lineage and more about the emotional states of its subjects. 

 

A loud beep sounded.  Craig jumped, and met Kenny’s startled eyes.  “Pizza,” he said stupidly. Kenny nodded.

 

They ate with their food on top of Craig’s papers, and Craig thought he’d never tasted anything half as good.  The cheese melted in his mouth, red sauce just sweet enough to balance the salt of the pepperoni. 

  
  


“So if you’re not here to be converted, what are you?” Craig asked curiously.

 

Kenny shrugged.  “Dunno. I’m not anything.  I don’t know how I could be, after how I grew up.”

 

“But Karen-”

 

“Sure, it helps Karen.  And that’s great. I don’t mean to say anything against you, pastor,” Kenny said, waving his hand dismissively.  “But religion- it’s not for me. I prefer to live in the present. Not the past or some distant future.”  
  
“That’s fair,” Craig said, frowning.  “I wasn’t always religious, you know. I mean, I was as a child, but I fell away.  If you’re ever interested…”

 

“I’ll come straight to you, I swear.  But it won’t happen. Fuck religion. Fuck god too, if he’s real.”  Craig blew a sharp hiss of air through his teeth, glancing at the ceiling in irrational fear of lightning.  “A good god would never let children suffer.”   
  


“Alright,” Craig said, nervously getting to his feet.  “Thank you for the high, and for speaking with me. I’m afraid I have some things to get done now, so-”

 

“I see,” Kenny said, his face unreadable.  “I hope to see you again sometime.”

 

“Oh, no doubt you will,” Craig said.  He hurried Kenny out the door, muttered a rushed goodbye, and collapsed onto his bed, his face in his hands.  “How could someone like that be so blasphemous?” he wondered to himself.

 

“Because,” a nervous, high-pitched voice answered.  “You don’t have to be godly to be good.”  
  
“Fuck off, Tweek,” Craig said affably.  The buzz still coursed through his body.  He glanced up at the imp and felt the strange stirring he’d felt before.  “You’re here early.”

 

“You’re high,” Tweek said, eyebrows raised.  “Isn’t that against- AH! Against god’s plan, or whatever?”

 

“No,” Craig said.  He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the imp was more attractive than ever, with his cheekbones that could have been carved from ivory and his piercing eyes.  “Why do you look like that?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like-” Craig gestured up and down Tweek’s body.  “Like that.”

 

“AH! I don’t know,” Tweek said quickly.  “It’s the way I’ve always looked. Is it bad?”

 

“No.”  Craig studied the long, leathery wings, the shining red horns that contrasted so nicely with Tweek’s hair.  “You’ve really always looked that way?”

 

“Sure, since I became a demon.”  
  
“And how did that happen again?” Craig asked innocently.

 

“No,” Tweek said, shaking his head emphatically.  His hair flopped around his face, staying perfectly spiked.  “No, pastor. Nice try. You’ve got to tell me what happened with Todd first.”  
  
It didn’t seem to matter.  Not anymore. Tweek probably knew most of it anyway.  “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “So we were together for a while.  Five years or so, I think, and we decided to move in together. He was- well, he was far better off than I was.  Financially. I moved in with him and things were fine. They were good. Then I got this job.”

 

“He didn’t like it?”  
  
“He didn’t mind at first.  I think it was a status symbol for him, I suppose.  You know, ‘Look at my husband. He helps poor youth and teaches them Christian values.  So _noble.’_ ”  Craig swallowed some of the bitterness down before he continued.  “I had my masters, but I’d never had a real job before this one. I wasn’t expecting to love it so much.  He began dropping hints, like I needed to spend more time with him. Nevermind when _he_ worked fifty hour weeks, that was _important_.  He was providing for us.

“It started out part time.  He just didn’t like it because it meant I was cooking less, doing less to help around the house.  Todd only valued things by what they could do for him. He couldn’t have cared less about helping the children, and he didn’t get it.  To him, I was wasting my time. We had plenty of money, why would I ever need to work? Then the hints became… more obvious. He’d ignore me when I came home late.  Refuse to sleep in my bed if he felt I’d been working too much. It came to a head on my birthday.

“He hadn’t planned anything, of course.  I think he thought if he just took me out to a nice restaurant and dropped some money I’d be happy.  That would have made  _ him _ happy, after all.  I made sure I was home on time.  We dressed up and went out, and the whole time I was eating my lobster I was thinking about all of the better things I could have done with the money.”

 

“It was your  _ birthday,” _ Tweek protested.  “It’s not bad to spend money on yourself.”  Craig waved him off.

“Sure, I  _ know _ that.  It wasn’t just that night.  That’s when things exploded.”

 

“But if you’d just been a reasonable person-”

 

“Do you want to hear this story or not?”  Tweek glared at him, and Craig glared right back.  The demon looked away first. “Right. So I didn’t  _ say _ anything, because I knew I’d sound like a penny-pinching idiot.  It was my birthday. It was fine. And then Todd pulls out this box.  I thought it was a ring-”

 

“It wasn’t?”

 

“It wasn’t.  It was a watch.  Made of gold and diamonds and frivolous ridiculousness.  I can’t even imagine how much it cost.”

“So you broke up with him because he got you a nice watch.”

 

“No- would you just listen?  So he pulls out the watch and says something like, ‘Craig, you mean the world to me.  I just want you to be happy, and I don’t think you’re very happy at your job. I got you this because I want you to know that I’ll take care of you.  You don’t have to work, not another day in your life. Quit, and this is yours. Anything you want is yours.’”

“Wow.”

 

“See, it was the ultimatum.  That reassurance that he’d ‘take care’ of me.  I didn’t want that. I still don’t want that. We didn’t break up for another few weeks, but nothing was the same after that.  By the time things finally ended, I’d been sleeping on the couch for a month. We just weren’t compatible. He needed someone kept and I-”

 

“You needed to be needed.”  Craig rubbed his forehead.

 

“I guess I did.  I needed to be needed.  Anyway. My life’s far too busy for that sort of nonsense.  That’s why it didn’t work. Todd was right, in a way. I didn’t have time for him.  I’m better off without him, anyway.”

 

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

 

“It’s the truth,” Craig said, scowling.

 

“What about that Kenny person?”

 

“Firstly, I don’t think he’s gay.  Secondly, he’s the brother of one of my kids.  Third- why am I even justifying myself to you?”

 

“Because you value my insight and judgement?” the imp asked, his face serious.  Only the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. Craig flipped him off, rolling over in the bed to lie on his stomach.  Tweek fluttered down beside him.

 

“A deal’s a deal, imp.  You got backstory, I get backstory.”

 

“You can ask one question,” Tweek said.  He folded his arms. “One question for another, that’s fair.  No more, no less.”

“Fine,” Craig said.  He thought for a moment.  “Have you always been an imp?”   
  


“No,” Tweek said, grinning broadly.  Craig waited, but the imp didn’t elaborate. 

“Oh, come on,” Craig said, rolling his eyes as he caught on.  “That’s not an answer.”

 

“I believe that technically, it is, in fact, an answer.”  Craig didn’t talk to him for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Tweek shadowed every part of Craig’s life, and to Craig’s chagrin, he enjoyed the demon’s company more and more with each passing day.  Mornings began to feel lonely. Times he used to use for planning his lessons became time to debate religion with the imp. He found himself telling Tweek stories about the children, and his plans for the day, though he found out next to nothing about the imp’s own life.  But the imp didn’t try to get him to spend the money, or convert him to a satanic cult, so Craig let it go.

 

“What’s on the agenda today?” Tweek asked, appearing in the passenger seat.

“House visit,” Craig said, not bothering to turn around.  “Got a kid who usually comes to everything. She’s missed the last two weeks.  I want to make sure she’s okay.”  
  
“Stalker.”

 

“Hey,” Craig said, frowning.  “These kids don’t feel like they have anyone who cares.  If they tell me to fuck off, I fuck off. But until then-”

 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Tweek said, holding his hands in front of him.  “So- AH! So touchy. As long as you don’t go Catholic, I guess.” Craig glared, not bothering to dignify the demon with a reply.  Tweek stuck his tongue out and changed the radio station to some pop channel. Craig groaned, smacking Tweek’s arm.

“If you’re going to ride around for free with me all day, I get to choose the music.”  He turned it back to his typical alternative, listening expectantly for the demon’s self-pitying sigh.  It didn’t come. He glanced over and found Tweek staring at him. “What?”

 

“I don’t know.  You look different.  Did you do something different?”  

 

Craig frowned.  “No.”  
  
“Is it your hair?”

 

“What’s wrong with my hair?”   
  


“I didn’t say anything was  _ wrong _ with it.”  Tweek’s eyes surveyed Craig’s body.  Craig found himself very glad he was stopped at a red light.  The demon’s gaze was electrifying. He felt Tweek’s eyes like a physical presence as they swept him from his head to his toes.  The demon’s tongue darted across his upper lip so quickly that Craig nearly missed it. It took the honk of the car behind him for Craig to drop back into reality.  

 

“So, something’s different,” Craig said.  “What do you think it is?”

 

Tweek giggled his nervous giggle.  “Oh, nothing’s different. I just wanted an excuse to stare.”   
  


Craig felt his face grow red.  He focused on the road and chose to ignore the pleasant feeling bubbling in his stomach as he turned into the neighborhood Karen McCormick had recently vacated.  Tweek’s chortle echoed around him as he parked on the street near a house just off the train-tracks. He gulped instinctively. He did house-calls occasionally, although he wasn’t paid for it and technically he wasn’t expected to do so, but he never knew what to expect, particularly when coming into neighborhoods like this one.

The house itself was in decent shape.  All of the windows had their glass intact, and though the paint was peeling, at least no grafiti littered the walls.  The yard, however, was- there was no other word for it- a cluster-fuck. Grass waved in the breeze, nearly the height of Kenny’s knees.  Trash and half-finished projects littered the lawn: empty beer bottles next to a tricycle, part of a rusty metal fence, and a statue that could have been of Elvis or Donald Trump.  Craig gathered his resolve and stepped out of the car. Tweek remained behind, still smirking.

 

Craig waded through the grass and up to the door.  He stared at it for just a moment, then raised his fist and knocked.  Hurried footsteps approached, then stopped. Craig waited. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened to reveal a disheveled and stressed-looking girl, who smiled at the sight of him.

 

“Pastor Craig,” she squealed, taking a step backwards.

 

“Sally.  Are you alright?”

“I-yes, I’m alright,” she said.  She was still disheveled, still stressed, but something about her seemed to give off a glow.  “I’m sorry i haven’t been making it to youth group. I haven’t been feeling up to it.”

 

“Oh,” Craig said.  He scrutinized her more closely.  “That’s fine. I’m just glad you’re alright.  I tried calling. I was worried.”

 

“I-I was afraid you’d be mad at me,” she said, flushing pink.  “I haven’t exactly been a very good Christian lately.”

 

“Nonsense.  You’re one of the strongest girls we’ve got.  What’s bothering you?”

 

“Well…”  She frowned for a moment, eyes turning upward.  Her face cleared, and the usual radiant smile returned.  “Would you like to come in, pastor?”

  
  


~~

 

Craig sat on an orange sofa covered in cat hair, sipping a cup of tea as Sally bustled around the kitchen.  She returned with a plate full of cookies, offering it to him. 

 

“No, thank you.  I’m trying to stay off the sweets,” he said.

 

“That’s the most Pastor Craig thing I’ve heard all day.”

 

“Well I should hope so,” Craig said.  “So. What has you feeling guilty?

 

“You know me and Ben have been seeing each other.”   
  


“Sure.  It’s all you’ve been able to talk about for the past month.”

 

Sally smiled uncomfortably, gripping the plate more tightly.  She sat in a chair across from Craig and crossed her legs. “Well Ben and I… we accidentally… you know.”

 

Craig gulped.  “Oh.”

 

“And I just found out I’m pregnant.”  Her smile grew for just a fraction of a second, then disappeared.  “And I know we’re not married- we don’t want to be. I’m gunna keep this baby on my own.  I think I’ll be good to it. My parents say I can stay here as long as I want, so I will. Just till I get on my feet.  I understand if you want to leave now, Pastor. I’d probably want to leave if I was you.”

 

“I don’t want to leave,” Craig said slowly.  “I think that’s your choice. Don’t want to get married, so what?  Only one without sin would be able to judge you here. And that’s certainly not me.”

 

“But the bible says it’s a sin.  If a man didn’t marry a woman he knocked up in biblical times, they’d stone her.”  Sally put a hand over her mouth. “Not that I think you’d stone me. But- well, you know.”

 

Craig thought for a minute.  “I think the bible is wonderful,” he began.  Sally’s face fell. “But. It doesn’t always apply to today’s world.  I think this is your choice, Sally. And it doesn’t change my opinion of you.  You’ve got this light that shines out of you when you smile, when you interact with the younger kids.  I think you’re great. I still think you’re great. And if you keep this baby, you’ll be great to him too.”

 

She smiled shyly.  “Well if I’d have known you thought that, I never would have stopped going to church.”

 

“Church is for everyone,” Craig said, thinking of the demon in his car.  “We all make mistakes. All you can do is try to wake up every morning and be a little better than you were before.  What does this Ben fellow plan to do?”

 

“We’re going to stay together.  He wants to be in the baby’s life, no matter what happens with us.  I think he’s still going to college, though. So I don’t know what will happen with us.”

 

“Good,” Craig said, nodding.  “Look, Sally. I miss having you around.  So do the other kids. I want you to come back.  If you’d like.” Sally nodded, her eyes welling up with tears.  He stood, and she flew into his arms. He hugged her awkwardly, patting her back until she pulled away.

 

“You’re a good man,” she said.  “Most pastors would turn me away at the door.  Hell, I don’t know if I’d even let myself in.” She covered her mouth with her hand again, her hair hanging in her face.  “Oops. Sorry.”

 

“You caught yourself,” Craig said, grinning.  He loved when his kids felt bad about swearing in front of him.  Like he didn’t swear hundreds of times a day, at least in his head.  “Sally, are you going to be alright?”

 

Her face never lost its glow.  “Yes, pastor. I know it’s not the most conventional thing in the world, but I want this.  I’m going to make it work for me. And I’ll come back to church. I miss it. It makes- you make, that is- me feel.. I dunno. At peace.”

 

Craig smiled and said his goodbyes.  He walked calmly back across the sea of grass and sat in his car next to Tweek.  “Don’t say anything,” he warned as the demon opened his mouth. Tweek closed it, grinning.  Craig waited, but the imp remained silent. “Alright, say it,” he grumbled, curious.

 

“You’re a good person,” Tweek said.  Craig raised an eyebrow. “I mean it.  Your own bible says one thing and you say another because you care about that scared little girl in there.  It might not be very Christian, but it’s very good.”

 

“Christ would have done the same thing,” Craig said.  “Except he’d probably grant her paradise and wash her feet.  I just did what anyone would have done.”

 

“We both know that’s a lie.”  Craig started the car. “I think you’ve earned something.”

 

“And what is that?  Another pain in my ass?”

 

“I think it’s too early for you to be propositioning me,” Tweek said with a grin.  Craig groaned. “How about this? I’ll let you ask me another question. Another backstory question.”

 

Craig gripped the steering wheel until the leather began to wear at his hands.  He thought, thought of a question the little imp wouldn’t be able to dodge. A car honked and swerved past him.  “Can we wait until we get home? I’d rather not get into an accident today.”

 

“Stalling for time,” Tweek said, nodding wisely.  “Fine, pastor. We’ll wait until you get home.” Craig flipped him off absently, mind still whirling with possibilities.  When they made it inside, they sat beside one another on the bed.

 

“I’m ready,” Craig said.  Tweek nodded. “How did you become an imp?”

 

“Look at you,” Tweek said.  “You’re learning.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Well,”  Tweek agreed.  He grinned at Craig for an infuriating moment before beginning to speak.  “Well I grew up about a thousand years ago in a little burrow in England. I was a baker, the best in the town, and I did alright for myself.  I had a few… dalliances with some of the men in town, and the villagers didn’t exactly take kindly to it. Before I knew it, I was accused of witchcraft and left for the night in the stockades.”  Tweek’s eyes grew bright. “That’s when he appeared.”

 

“Who?”

 

“He introduced himself as the son of the morning.”

 

“Satan,” Craig breathed.

 

“Yes, that’s another of his names.  He was huge, imposing. Strangely soft-spoken, but his horns were nearly the size of my arms and his chest could have fit three of me inside.  Bright red skin. Terrifying.”

“What did you do?”

 

“I fainted,” Tweek said, twitching.  “I wasn’t a brave man when I was mortal.  The next day they shipped me off. I thought it was a dream, of course, a nightmare.  Lucifer didn’t come back until I was chained up in the Tower of London with the other accused witches and warlocks, waiting for my merciful day of execution.  He came in the dead of night, a night that was full dark, deep in the dungeon. I hadn’t eaten then in three days, and I nearly fainted again, but I think he stopped me.  There he was, huge, red, and scowling at me. I knew he was the devil straight away. Even back then there were stories. I remember I began to pray, the only prayer I knew.  ‘Our Father who art in heaven-”

 

“Hallowed be thy name,” Craig supplied.  “I believe I know the one.”

 

“Yes.”  Tweek ran both of his hands through his spiky hair, pulling the ends.  “You know what he did?” Craig shook his head. “He laughed. Even now I remember how afraid I was.  This huge red monster laughing at the only way I knew to thwart him. Then he sat down and touched the chains that hung from my hands.  The metal disappeared. He did the same to the chains on my feet, and for a moment, I was free. I was paralyzed with terror, though, and didn’t dare try to run.”

 

“Then?”  Craig prompted.

 

“Then He spoke,” Tweek said.  “‘Little one,’ He said. ‘History says you die here, cold and alone with an empty belly.  Do you wish this to be your fate?’ I couldn’t speak. I barely had the nerve to shake my head, just once, as quickly as I could before I fell back into paralysis.  ‘I’m here to offer you an alternative.’ He stared at me, like he was waiting for me to say something. I didn’t. I couldn’t. ‘Come with me, serve me for a hundred years, and you’ll live forever.’”

 

“And you agreed?” Craig interrupted, disgusted.

 

“Not right away- do you want to hear the story or not?”  Craig stared sullenly at the wall. “That’s what I thought.  You’ve got to understand I was raised when Christianity was starting to bloom.  I had the fear of god, or whatever you want to call it, in my heart. And an eternity in hell didn’t seem like a great deal at the time.”

 

“You used to be so smart,” Craig said wistfully.  

 

“Fine, I won’t tell you.”  

 

“I’m sorry.  I mean it. Go on.”

 

“No,” Tweek said, pulling at his hair again and frowning.  “And the rest is really good, too. You have to wait to hear it until you deserve it.”

 

“Come on,” Craig protested.  “I’ll listen.”

 

“God damn right you will,” Tweek mumbled in his fastest, angriest  tone. “You’ll learn your lesson.” With that, the demon disappeared.  Craig stared after him, exasperated.

 

“That’s all it takes to make you go away?” he yelled at nothing.  “I should have done that weeks ago.”

 

For a moment, there was silence.  Then, from somewhere on the floor above him, he heard someone yell, “Shut up.”  Craig shut up.

 

~~

 

He tried for the next few days to make the imp talk, but Tweek disappeared every time the subject was brought up.  Eventually, Craig dropped it. He focused instead on his sermons and his youth group lessons. Sally began attending again, still glowing with self-assured light.  Karen came too, often dropped off by her brother. Kenny remained friendly, but Craig tried to stay aloof. He already had one demon trying to tempt him to hell, he certainly didn’t need a mortal one on top of that.  Life settled back into a normal routine for the most part. Even Tweek’s presence became commonplace. Everything was completely fine until he ran into Stan Marsh at the Supermarket.

 

Craig noticed him near the bananas.  That self-satisfied smirk set on a face far too handsome for its own good was impossible to forget, though it had been years since they’d last spoken.  He was standing alone with a cart full of beer and snack foods. Craig watched sullenly as Stan put a prepackaged salad on top of a bag of chips, like he was trying to hide his shame.  He scoffed, not realizing he’d done so out loud until Stan turned to look at him.

 

“Uh, hey, Craig,” he said, like he hadn’t been Craig’s arch-rival through most of their childhood.  “How’s it going?”

 

Craig swallowed his anger.  That wasn’t very Christian of him.  Not very Christian at all. And they were both adults now, weren’t they?  Craig had absolutely no reason to be a dick. Still, it took a surprising amount of effort to keep his middle fingers securely in his pockets.  

 

“Hi… Stan,” Craig managed.  “What are you doing here? I thought you went to college in Boulder and stayed down there.”

“Yeah,” Stan said.  To Craig’s dismay, Stan’s eyes filled up with tears.  “Yeah, it turns out Wendy didn’t want to be with me anymore.  So I came up here. I-I didn’t know where else to go.” Stan began to sob ugly tears.  Craig sighed. It was his job to comfort people. Even Stan Marsh people.

 

“Hey.  Why don’t you come to my place?  Tell me what’s going on.”

 

“You- you would do that for me?” Stan asked through his tears.

 

“Sure, dude,” Craig said, awkwardly patting Stan on the back.  “Sure. Let’s just pay and get out of here.”

 

“Okay.”  Stan’s lower lip trembled and a fresh wave of tears rolled down his face.

 

“What?” Craig asked, trying to hide his impatience.

 

“I don’t have a car.”

 

“I’ll drive you,” Craig said through gritted teeth.  

 

He managed to get Stan home without strangling the man, but just barely.  They sat on the side of Craig’s poorly-made bed, beers in hand as Stan sobbed.

 

“It can’t be all that bad, right?” Craig asked.  He had to speak loudly to be heard over Stan’s moaning.  “I mean she wasn’t right for you if she decided to end things.”

 

“N-no,” Stan choked.  “She left me because I didn’t treat her g-good enough.”

 

“That’s ridiculous.  You guys have been together since high school and you’ve always treated her fine.”

 

“What would you know?  You haven’t had a real relationship since- since Todd.”  Craig chugged his beer, unable to help one of his middle fingers from slipping into view.  “I’m sorry, but it’s true, isn’t it?”   
  


“Yeah,” Craig said.  He grabbed another and twisted off the cap.  “So you’re back. What are you going to do, are you living with your parents?”

 

“With my friend Kyle,” Stan corrected.  “He’s a lawyer or something now. Got a big place by City Hall.  I’ll stay with him until I find something else.”

 

“Kyle- Kyle  _ Broflovski _ ?” Craig asked, nearly spitting out a mouthful of beer as Stan nodded.  “He’s one of the best prosecutors in the state. How the hell did you meet him?”

 

“We’ve been friends for forever,” Stan said vaguely.  “Wendy- Wendy knew him.” 

 

He started to sob again.  Craig patted his back awkwardly and waited for the tears to stop.  They didn’t. He made some tea and pressed a mug into Stan’s hands, murmuring comforting phrases that meant nothing.  Eventually, Stan was able to calm down enough to tell Craig what had happened.

 

“We moved to rent a house together.  It was too expensive in Boulder, so we lived just outside, right by the highway.  We were talking about getting married… talking about kids. Hell, we were talking about the future more than we talked about anything.  Then I got this new job. In an office. Just sucked the life out of me. I’d come home and drink, and ignore her for video games. I guess- I guess it was just too much after a couple months.  Get this, she ran off with fucking Token. Toke from high school.”

 

“Oh,” Craig said.  He barely caught himself from asking how Token was.  “Well if she ran off with another guy, she wasn’t being faithful to you anyways, was she?  That’s not your fault. Sometimes people get busy, that doesn’t mean you’ve got to run off into someone else’s arms.”

 

“No, I deserve it.  I really do. I haven’t really listened to her in- hell, in years.  I don’t know what I expected. I guess… I guess I thought she’d be there anyway.”

 

Craig sighed and took a sip of his third beer.  His head was beginning to buzz in a comfortable way, and he was minding Stan’s presence less and less.  “Things happen. Relationships fall apart. So you made mistakes, so did she. That doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up over it.  You need to forgive yourself so you can move on.”

Stan grumbled something, a few more tears rolling down his cheeks.  Craig handed him another beer wordlessly. They turned on the TV and watched something mindless.  Craig avoided staring directly at Stan, letting him get himself under control. They drank the full twelve-pack, and by the end of his sixth bottle, Craig was beginning to feel pretty good.  Stan’s stupidly good-looking face was slack-jawed, and the man’s eyes were beginning to close. Craig lay a blanket on the floor and helped Stan onto it. Stan was asleep before his head hit the pillow.  Craig rubbed his forehead, fairly tipsy, but not tired in the least. He pulled his shoes back on and left for a walk.

 

The sound of Tweek’s wings hit him as soon as he was outside, and Craig found himself grinning.  “Hey, you.”

 

“Hey,” Tweek said, eyes twinkling.  Craig’s eyes wandered to his pale chest, then lower to his tight leather pants.  There was a bulge, one Craig had never dared look at before, a hard protrusion that poked nearly through the leather.  He gulped, unable to look away, picturing what Tweek might look like without those pants. “See something you like?”

 

“No,” Craig lied.  “I’m just zoning. Too much beer.”

 

“Or just the right amount.  Who’s your friend?”

 

“Not my friend.  He’s this asshole I went to high school with.  I just don’t think he’s got anyone else right now.”

 

“Always so noble, Pastor.  When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

 

Craig thought about it, paused, then thought some more.  “I dunno.”

 

“Not normal.  What do you even like to do?”

 

_ Sex, _ he thought.  He cursed himself.  The thought of having sex with a literal demon from hell should have been repulsive.  But lately, especially with the beer buzzing around his system, the idea was becoming more and more appealing.  He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “I like… sports?”

 

“There ya go.  Playing sports?  Watching sports? What?”

 

“Playing.  I like basketball.”

 

“Cool.  Let’s go to the park and play some one-on-one.”

 

“But I don’t even have a ball.”

 

“I’ll take care of that.”  Craig knew it should question it, say no, but it just sounded so good… against his better judgement, he followed the sound of Tweek’s flapping wings down the sidewalk, not even minding that someone he hadn’t seen in eight years was alone in his apartment.  

 


	4. Chapter 4

It took less than ten minutes before Craig was covered in sweat, his shirt thrown to the side of the court.  He’d worried at first, of course, that people would see Tweek and panic, or worse, that they wouldn’t see Tweek and he’d look like a lunatic, but Tweek assured him that they wouldn’t be bothered.  It could have been demonic magic, or the fact that it was darkening in a shitty neighborhood, but the court remained empty. 

 

He felt more alive than he’d felt in months, maybe even longer, like some part of him had been dormant and brought to life.  His head still swam pleasantly from the beer, and his body buzzed with tension from running, dunking and swerving around the little imp.  Tweek’s wings hung by his side, and without them, he was slower, far less graceful. Craig ran across the court, nimbly spinning around the imp with the ball clutched in his left hand.  Tweek grabbed for it, snatching Craig’s wrist instead and pulling their bodies together until they were chest to chest. Craig felt sparks running up his arm, his skin electrified. He felt the heat radiating off Tweek’s body, their chests an inch apart, hearts beating in time.  It only lasted a moment before Tweek let go and stepped away. Craig felt himself growing painfully hard. The basketball fell to the ground and bounced three times before rolling to a stop.

 

They stared at each other for a moment.  Craig didn’t dare speak. He knew if he did, everything he was thinking and feeling would come spilling out, and where would he be then?  _ In Tweek’s pants, _ a traitorous part of him whispered.  He gulped. It could happen, he knew it could.  He felt the energy rushing between them, saw the look Tweek was giving him.  It would be all too easy just to give in to his instincts and deal with the consequences later.

 

“So how does it feel?” Tweek asked.  Craig jumped.

 

“Er- what?”

 

“Doing something for yourself,” Tweek said, face unusually serious.  Craig looked away.

 

“It feels good.”  Tweek smiled, that half-smile that was somehow mocking and commiserating at once.  Craig smiled back. “Thank you.”

 

“Sure,” Tweek said, running a hand through his damp hair.  “Stick with me, pastor, we’ll get that self-care up to par.  You can’t take care of others if you’re not taking care of yourself.”

 

“You’re probably right.”  Craig felt suddenly shy. “We need to work on your rule-following.  The only reason you came close to beating me was the pulling my shirt.”

 

“Rules are for mortals,” Tweek said.  “Besides, you’re pretty good. I was just trying to even the playing field.  You came out like an animal.”

 

“That’s years of pent-up frustration coming out all at once,” Craig admitted.  

 

“You can take your frustrations out on me any time,” Tweek said, flapping his wings and hovering a few inches above the ground.  Craig scoffed, relieved to find the dynamic back to normal. Tweek flew above him on the way home, occasionally zipping into the sky just to show off.  Craig was just relieved to find his apartment still intact, and Stan Marsh still passed out, blessedly silent. 

 

“Tweek,” Craig said.  He paused. Tweek cocked his head.  “Thank you. I feel better. I think I really needed that.  I- this sounds stupid but I guess I’m glad you were here tonight.”

 

Tweek flushed pink, and the half-smile reappeared.  “I’m glad I was here too. You know, you’re pretty interesting.  For a human. I don’t entirely hate spending my days with you.” Craig stepped over Stan and curled up in bed, sleepily pulling the blankets to his neck.  Tweek flapped to the ceiling and hung upside down, curling his wings around him. Craig’s eyes began to close, and the last thing he remembered hearing was a soft snore, one that could have come from a human or a demon.  

 

Getting Stan to leave in the morning was far more of a challenge than Craig was prepared for.  The waterworks started soon after the man woke up, triggered by cornflakes, and didn’t stop for another solid hour.  Craig ran out of comforting words and settled for nods and the best sympathetic face he could muster. Stan finally left at noon, and Craig’s world was blessedly quiet.  He pulled out his bible and read, snacking on walnuts. By two, Tweek still hadn’t shown up. Craig wasn’t worried. The demon always showed eventually. Taking Tweek’s words about taking care of himself to heart, Craig took a bubble bath.  At five, Tweek was still missing, and Craig began to worry. To distract himself, he cooked an elaborate meal, but with no one to make snarky comments, the room felt too large, too empty. On impulse, he called Kenny.

 

“‘Lo,” the voice on the other end said.

“Kenny? It’s Craig.”

 

“Oh hey.  What’s up?”

 

“I was wondering if you and Karen wanted to come over for dinner tonight.  I made too much chicken piccata and I don’t want it to go bad.”

 

“Karen’s with a friend.”

 

“Oh,” Craig said, stomach sinking. 

 

“But I’ll come.  Can I bring Cartman?”

 

“Why not?” Craig asked, thinking of several reasons why not.

 

“See ya in five.”  Kenny hung up without saying goodbye.  Craig set a few more plates out and tidied up.  He glanced around, silently begging Tweek to show up, but the apartment stayed empty.

 

Kenny and Cartman walked in without knocking.  Kenny held a six-pack, and waved. Cartman came empty-handed and gave Craig a look that made him feel naked.  He shivered.

 

“Thanks for coming.  I couldn’t have eaten all this alone.”

 

“God damn, were you planning on feeding an army?” Cartman asked.  

 

“He doesn’t need an army, he just knew you were coming.”

 

“AY!” Cartman said, flipping Kenny off.  Craig relaxed. These people reminded him of his high school friends.  He realized with a jolt that it had been a while since he’d had close friends he could joke around with.  Besides Tweek, of course, but he wasn’t sure if demons counted.

They crowded around Craig’s tiny table, passing bowls of food around.  Craig cracked open a beer and took a huge gulp, watching the other two eat.  For a few moments, there was silence as all three of them stuffed food into their mouths as quickly as they could.  Cartman was the first to speak.

“We traded DT.  Did you see that?”

 

“Yeah,” Craig said gloomily.  “To the Texans of all places. I mean I know our season’s over, but it still hurts.”

 

“Goddamn right it hurts,” Cartman said, nodding his head in approval.  “Kase is bad enough already, take away DT and who does he have left?”

 

“An empty backfield.  The only good thing about this season is watching the Raiders lose.”

 

Cartman snorted.  “Right? At least Gruden’s destroying them from the inside.”

 

“Can we talk about something not sports?” Kenny asked, rolling his eyes.  “From August to January that’s all anyone wants to talk about. The Broncos suck.  Football’s boring. Who cares?”

 

“Literally everyone on the planet except you, Kinney.  God, I guess that’s what happens when you grow up poor.  You’re less American or something.”

 

Kenny flipped him off good-naturedly.  “When’d you learn to cook, Craig? This shit’s great.”

 

“I worked in a soup kitchen for a summer in college.”

 

Cartman snorted again.  “Of course you did. Fuckin’ pastor Craig.”

 

“I don’t know what that means,” Craig said, hoping he sounded dignified.  “What about you? What do you do, Cartman?”

 

“Oh I own a stem-cell supply company,” Cartman said, scratching his head like it was nothing.  “We mostly sell to research labs and shit. Occasionally to people like Christopher Reeves, you know.  Weirdos who are just really into fetuses.”

 

“Damn, dude.”

 

“Yeah, it’s growing a lot lately.  I guess with legalization research is booming.  I do pretty well. My lawyer’s really great.”

 

“He’s great at it,” Kenny admitted.  “You should see him negotiate.”

 

“If you’re ever looking to get out of the church business, you should check us out.  I bet you’re pretty convincing too.”

 

Craig ended up having a good night, despite Tweek’s absence.  He smoked up some more of Kenny’s weed and talked with the two of them until nearly midnight.  Cartman’s eyes tracked him no matter what they were doing, and at the end of the night, the bigger man made some excuse to pull Craig into a hug.  He found he didn’t mind, not exactly. Cartman was prickly, it was true, and a bit of an asshole. But he had a cute enough face and his arms were warm.  Craig found himself interested, although whether he was interested in friendship or something else was still uncertain. 

 

He waited up until nearly 2 am, nevermind that he was exhausted, or that he had a full day of church ahead of him.  He needed to see Tweek. But the demon didn’t appear. Eventually, Craig fell asleep. A shadow of a demon with large wings fluttered around his dreams, but when he awoke, he was still alone.

 

Tweek didn’t show the next day, or the day after that.  With every hour the imp was absent, Craig’s anxiety grew worse and worse.  Did he do something wrong? Worse, had he somehow agreed to worship Satan, fulfilling the demon’s purpose and sending him away?  Was Tweek hurt? He shouldn’t care about something that was undeniably pure evil, but he did. His heart ached with the not-knowing.  On the third day, Craig’s mind was racing so quickly he struggled to get out of bed. He called in sick to work, and dragged himself up to make coffee.  His heart stopped as he realized that there was a note on his table. He picked it up with shaking hands and read it.

 

_ Dear Pastor Craig, _

_ I’m sorry if I’ve worried you with my unexplained absence the last couple of days.  I miss your company and wish I wasn’t stuck in Hell. Something unexpected came up, and I’m trying to help as much as I can.  The Fallen World needs all the help it can get right now. I hope to return to you soon, but I don’t know when that will be. In the meantime, take care of yourself.  Don’t let your work become your whole life again. Call up that Kenny guy and take him out to dinner. Buy yourself an extra slice of pizza. Practice your half-court shots.  You’re too young to be such a workaholic. _

_ Yours, _

_ Tweek _

Craig stared at the signature.   _ Yours, _ Tweek said.   _ Yours. _  What a strange choice of words.  Tweek was his in a way now. His panic the last few days had proven that. His heart slowed to its regular rate.  The anxiety was gone. He still missed Tweek, but none of his fears had come to life. He could make it through this.  He drank his coffee on his bed as he circled particularly poignant phrases in his bible, saving them for future sermons.  When he finished, he went for a long walk around the neighborhood. He returned feeling revived. 

Craig did his best to keep taking care of himself.  He worked as much as he always did, true, but he also saw Kenny a few times and walked outside far more than he usually did.  Two weeks from the day Tweek had disappeared, he reappeared.

 

For once, the imp was there when Craig woke up.  His normally vibrant hair hung in long, disheveled strands around his face, and a dark red cut was sliced into his cheeks.  His leather pants had singe marks on them, and even his wings seemed droopier than usual. Craig stared, unable to speak. Even with all the damage, Tweek was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  

 

“Hey,” Tweek said, smiling his almost-smile.  Craig rushed at him and pulled the imp into his arms, holding him as tightly as he could to his chest.  Tweek was soft. He smelled like hellfire and damnation, but Craig didn’t care. All he knew was that he had been alone, and now he wasn’t.  He’d been missing a part of himself and now it was back. Tweek pulled away first, scrutinizing Craig with sharp blue eyes. “Are you drunk again?”   
  


“No,” Craig said, embarrassed.  He clasped Tweek’s shoulders, studying every inch of his face, so if Tweek ever left again Craig would be able to rebuild him from memory.  “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

 

Tweek stared right back at him, his eyes hungry.  “I wouldn’t leave you here alone, Pastor. Not after… everything.”  They both fell silent. Craig realized his hands still gripped Tweek’s shoulders.  He let him go. 

 

“Good,” Craig said.  He cleared his throat, stopped himself from saying more.  

 

“I missed you,” Tweek said, finally glancing away.  

 

“I guess I missed you too,” Craig realized aloud.  Tweek’s smile reappeared.

 

“I won’t leave without you again.”

 

“Then you’re a wise man.”

 

They spent the day together, though they mostly sat in silence.  Every so often, Craig reached out and touched Tweek, his knee, his hand, his face, just to make sure he was still there.  For once, Tweek didn’t pester him, or give him any lip for the touches. He just sat and watched Craig, little half-smile ever-present on his lips.  It wasn’t until nightfall that they really began to talk.

“What happened?” Craig asked finally, gently running a finger along the cut on Tweek’s forehead.

 

“Do you really want to know?”  Craig nodded. Tweek twitched, pulling at his lank hair.  “Alright. Well there was a bit of a war. Just a short one.  Wars are shorter in Hell. We have more time we don’t want to waste.  This guy- you might have heard of him, actually. Saddam Hussein? He led this rebellion.  He’s Satan’s ex. He wasn’t happy about being dumped. He lived in heaven for a while, but he got kicked out because he was swearing too much.”

 

“Swearing too much?”

 

“The Mormons don’t take kindly to that.”

 

“Wait- the Mormons?”

 

“Nevermind.  Anyway, he got a bunch of angelic followers and came back to hell.  Lots of the souls Satan doesn’t like teamed up with him. They tried to take Hell.  We destroyed them. Sadam, though, gave me this before he was banished.” Tweek grabbed Craig’s hand and guided his fingers over the deep mark on his cheek.  “Something to remember the battle by, I suppose. Satan wasn’t happy.”

 

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” Craig said, not able to draw his hand away.  “Is it- is it very bad?”

 

“I don’t know.  I came here as soon as I knew the battle was won.  I haven’t had it looked at.” Craig stood abruptly, walking the few feet to the bathroom.  He wet a washcloth and grabbed a handful of bandages. He knelt beside Tweek and cleaned the wound as gently as he could, washing away the dried blood.  Tweek remained still. His skin was so soft- so remarkably vulnerable that it was easy to forget he was a demon. Craig patted Tweek’s skin dry, wiping off a trickle of blood that escaped.  He looked at the bandaids he’d grabbed.

 

“These won’t look flattering but they should keep the bleeding under control.”

 

“Well if they don’t make me look pretty, I don’t want them,” Tweek said, grinning sardonically.

 

“I’ll tell you you’re pretty, so long as you wear them properly.”  Craig leaned forward to watch what he was doing as he pressed the bandages onto Tweek’s face, all lined up together in a Frankenstein’s monster sort of fashion.  He felt Tweek’s breath on his forehead, and glanced up to find Tweek’s nose inches from his own. He pulled back, startled. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Tweek said, playing with his hair again.  “You’ve done a good job. I don’t know why demons bleed. It seems like a design flaw to me.  I’ll have to talk to Satan about it.”

 

“Yeah,” Craig said.  They fell into awkward silence.  “You never did finish telling me how you met him in the first place.”

 

“Oh,” Tweek said, looking grateful for the change in subject.  “You really want to hear it?” Craig glared. “Fine, fine. Where was I?”

 

“The devil dissolved your chains.  In the Tower of London.” 

 

“Right.  So there I was, kneeling on the stone-cold floor of a dungeon with Lucifer standing above me.  And he told me if I served him for a hundred years, he’d give me eternal life. No strings attached.  I couldn’t answer. Not at first. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t unstick it.  But I could shake my head. So I did. He gave me this disappointed look, one I never thought I’d see on the face of evil personified. Then he disappeared.  My chains returned, and the dungeon got a few degrees colder.

“He came again a week later.  I was weaker then. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, and I hadn’t spoken in even longer.  It was strange- I remember being so glad to see someone- anyone- that I began to cry. Satan let me cry, standing a few feet away.  My chains fell away, and I knelt at his feet. ‘Child,’ Satan said. ‘I do not want to see you die here alone and forgotten. I can save you.  All you need to do is serve for a hundred years. Then your life will be yours for eternity.’ This time, I found my voice. I’d heard stories, of course, of people selling their souls to the devil, and none of them ended well.  Even starving alone in a prison miles from my home, I didn’t want that. ‘I can’t,’ I said, unable to meet his eyes. Once more he looked disappointed. ‘You will have one more chance,’ he said. ‘One more, but if you don’t take it, I cannot help you.’”

 

“And then he disappeared.  A few days later, someone came in for me.  But it wasn’t what I’d been waiting for. Not at all.  The men wouldn’t speak to me. It only took one to drag me out; I’d lost quite a bit of weight in my weeks in the dungeon.  And then… They took me outside. The light burned my eyes. I remember thinking, light should never burn someone’s eyes. That’s how long it had been.  They pulled me up to a platform, through a screaming crowd. I couldn’t make out any of their faces, but the whole crowd seemed an ugly grimace.”

 

“Poetic,” Craig said before he could stop himself.  Tweek gave him a warning look, and he shut up.

 

“I didn’t get a trial of course.  Back in those days, if you were accused of being a witch, you were dead.  You were guilty. They slipped a noose around my neck. Someone asked if I had any last words.  And then Satan was beside me. He didn’t speak. He simply stared, question clear in his eyes. And… And I was about to die, and so weak, that I would have betrayed any of my convictions in that moment.  I nodded at him, and the next thing I knew, the noose was gone, and the air was warm around me.”

 

“Wow,” Craig said.  “What happened after that?  What did he make you do?”

 

“That,” Tweek said, grinning at him.  “Is a story for another time. Now, I want to hear about you.  What have you been doing while I’ve been gone?”   
  


Craig thought about it, then smiled.  “I took care of myself. I played basketball.  And had Kenny and Cartman over.”

 

“Cartman?” Tweek asked, nose wrinkling.  “That fat guy who lives with Kenny? Why?”

 

“I dunno.  Kenny brought him the first time.  He’s not that bad.”  _ I like the creepy way he looks at me, _ he thought.  “He’s pretty smart.  And funny.”

 

“Gross,” Tweek said.  “Well- how’s Sally? Is she still showing up?”

 

“Yes,” Craig said, feeling his face fall.  “But her guy skipped town. Looks like she’s going to be on her own.  I gave her some of the money you left. I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”

 

“Well, I can get more,” Tweek said, like it meant nothing.

 

“I don’t think she’d take more.  But thank you.” They talked all day, and late into the night.  Craig didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke he was in his bed with the blankets pulled up to his chest, and he was, once more, alone.

 

He checked on Karen again before youth group.  She answered the door to Kenny’s apartment. Her hair was neatly braided into two braids beside her face, and her clothes were clean, clean and new.  Craig was getting used to seeing her like this, but still, seeing the impact Kenny had had on his sister’s life was incredible. She smiled more too, and seemed less nervous than he’d seen her, maybe ever.  

 

“Hiya, Pastor,” she said.  “I didn’t think I’d see you till tonight.”

 

“I just wanted to talk to you.  I haven’t seen you one-on-one in a while.  You look great.”

 

“I feel great,” she said.  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell Kenny.  He’s got me and Cartman doing this exercise challenge with him.  I don’t want him to get ideas about making it harder.”

 

“What sort of exercise?”   
  


“Oh, you know.  Pushups and running and shi… stuff.  Come in, I’ll make us some tea.” Craig entered the apartment and took a seat on the couch.  He was once again shocked at how clean they managed to keep it with three of them living there.  He struggled to keep his tiny place clean, and he was the only one making a mess. Kenny and Cartman must have figured out some trick that he hadn’t.  Karen returned carrying two mugs.

 

“Hope you like raspberry.  We’re running low.”

 

“Raspberry’s great,” he said, taking the mug.  “So, how are you liking it here?”

 

“I have so much more time,” she said.  “It’s nice. Cartman’s annoying, though.  I feel like I’m living with two of my brothers.  Except Kenny’s not as annoying.”

 

“Cartman,” Craig said, grinning and shaking his head.  “How do you put up with it?”

 

“I listen to a lot of loud music,” Karen said.     
  


“Do you have your own bed?”

 

“Kenny’s got me sleeping on his.  He sleeps on the couch. I don’t think he minds.  It’s better than the beds we had at home.”

 

“Good,” Craig said.  He needed to stop worrying about Karen.  She was doing better than  _ he  _ was now, for god’s sakes.  They spent the rest of the time chatting comfortably, before Craig left to set up his youth group activity.  He cleaned the church, picking up pieces of loose paper and writing on the boards. Then he waited, tapping his fingers together, for people to show up.  They straggled in in groups of two or three, and none of them looked happy. Some of their faces were streaked with tears, others simply looked angry. None of them tried to speak to him, which was strange.  He approached two of his favorite kids, who quieted as he walked up to them.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked without preamble.

 

“You haven’t heard?”  One of the kids- Filmore- said.  Craig shook his head. “Emily died last night.  She got hit by a drunk driver.” Craig’s heart sank.

 

“ _ What?” _

“He tried to run, but someone got his license plate.  I hope he gets shanked in prison.” Craig took a few deep breaths as Filmore walked away.  Emily. She’d been one of the good ones. One of the quiet ones. Maybe he should have paid more attention.  Maybe that would have changed things. Maybe- but maybe not. Who knew? It didn’t matter now… He’d always sort of assumed Emily was one of those who didn’t need extra help, or extra attention.  He didn’t know her well. He felt like he’d been stabbed straight through the heart. He grabbed his bible, deciding to change the theme of the youth group last minute. 

 

The children grouped up and sat around the church gym, subdued and oddly silent, waiting for Craig to say something profound that would make them feel better.  He cleared his throat, grabbing the microphone and cringing at the familiar scream of the interference. 

 

“Hello everyone,” he said softly.  The few voices he heard instantly quieted.  “I originally planned something different for tonight, but I think we could all use words of comfort today.  For those of you who haven’t heard, Emily Salazar passed away yesterday after she was hit by a car.” The silence didn’t waver.  So he was the last to know. “When we hear news like this- news of someone’s death that many of us were close to- it’s easy to become angry.  Angry at the man who did this, at each other. Even angry at God. Grief causes us strange emotions. You’re not bad for feeling these things.  However, it might be more productive, when possible, to turn your grief toward something else.

  
“Emily was young.  She was bright. No one expected this.  Though no death is the same, no grief is the same, the bible has words of comfort for those coping with grave loss like the loss of Emily.  When Job lost his family, he lost them all in a day, all but his wife. He grieved them miserably, and the lord continued to try him. King David grieved the loss of his closeness to the lord, after the death of Bathsheba’s husband, which he caused.  Psalms 34:18 tells us ‘the LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ But what does that mean for you?” 

 

Craig gave his whole impromptu sermon, but of course it didn’t help.  For those that are grieving, words never seemed to be enough. He gave them time at the end to comfort one another, to talk, to share Emily’s memory between them.  Some of them talked with him, others avoided him, eyes downcast. He didn’t mind either way. The important thing was that he was there if they needed him. This was the first time many of them had dealt with a loss.  They needed a safe space to grieve, safe from the outside world who wouldn’t understand. He could do that much.

 

He himself had dealt with loss, over and over again, though he didn’t like to think about it any more than necessary.  But this one hit him harder. He should have known her. She had been there every week, socializing with the kids he was closer to.  He should have known who she was, and all he had was the blurry memory of her face. Tweek waited for him when he finally got home.

“It’s not your fault,” Tweek said.  “You couldn’t have done anything if you tried.”

 

“I know that,” Craig said, frowning.  “But I wish I could have known her. Now it’s too late.”

 

“There’s an afterlife.  You ought to know that by now.  She’s gone here, but she’ll be looked after in the world beyond.”

 

“That doesn’t make this better.  She- she never got to grow up, to go to college.  She never experienced real love or got to have children, if she even wanted them.  It’s the finality of it. So much potential, just gone. Like that.” 

 

“It’s the way of mortal life.  It’s all there is. That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?  You have these moments, moments of beauty and pain, and boredom, all strung together to form a life.  The moments end. The person ends. That’s why it seems so precious, even to those of us who don’t have to worry about death.  It’s so short. So much meaning packed into no time at all.”

 

“Stop trying to be deep,” Craig grumbled.  Tweek flapped his wings, floating an inch above the floor.  “Come here.” The imp obliged, and Craig pulled him into an embrace.  Tweek trembled beneath him, and strangely warm wings wrapped Craig in closer.

 

“I am deep,” Tweek muttered into his shoulder.  “Just because you don’t recognize it-” And then Craig was kissing him.  He wasn’t sure why, maybe it started to shut the imp up, or to get some kind of comfort.  But it grew. Tweek’s wings flapped slowly, nearly lifting them off the ground. The imp’s lips were warm, soft.  They gave in to Craig’s like they’d been made for him. Craig’s hands gripped Tweek’s thin body, pulling him closer, greedy for something.  He felt so small up against Craig, so fragile. Craig pulled away. They stared at each other. Tweek’s mouth fell open, and under different circumstances, it would have been funny.  It wasn’t. 

 

“No.  I-I’m sorry,” Craig mumbled.  “It was just- I needed comfort and you were there, and-”   
  


“I know,” Tweek said.  His amused mask slipped, just for a second, and he looked sad.  His eyes grew far-away, and Craig wondered who he was thinking about.  His lips parted, more slightly than before, as though he was about to kiss someone, and Craig felt himself longing, longing for that someone to be him.  The moment passed. Tweek gave him a half-smile. “I should go. We’re still rebuilding down there.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Get some sleep, Craig.  Maybe have a drink. You’ll feel better about this tomorrow.”

 

“Are you coming back?”  
  
Tweek hesitated, smile slipping.  “I don’t know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Craig had a drink.  He stared at the clock, like staring would make the minutes move faster.  He had another drink and stared at his phone. Like it was waiting for a cue, it began to ring.  He answered, trying to keep his tone neutral.

 

“Craaaaig,” the voice on the other end wailed.  “Craig she got rid of my dooooog.”

 

“Stan?”

 

“Yeeesss,” Stan sobbed.  Craig sighed. “She gave him up for adoption.”

 

“Stan, I’m kind of dealing with my own thing right now,” he said.

 

“Okay, well can I come over?  We can get drunk and rant to each other.”  Craig sighed again, more loudly. 

 

“You got booze?”

 

“Oh,” Stan said, chuckling.  “I’ve got all kinds of booze.”

 

“You got a sober ride?”

 

“I’ll get Kyle to come too.  That cool?”

 

“Yeah,” Craig said.  A rush of gratitude hit him, gratitude that he wouldn’t have to be alone with his confusing thoughts tonight.  He threw the dirty clothes in his laundry bin and ran a rag over the counter. He turned on the air-conditioner, something he only did if he was having non-demonic friends over.  He was used to the heat, and for Tweek, it probably felt like the arctic. By the time he heard the knock, it felt livable. 

 

“Oh my god, Pastor Tucker,” Kyle said as Craig opened the door.  Craig gave him a very manly chest-bump. He’d had quite a bit of history with Kyle the prosecutor since Kyle was just getting started in law to recently.  Kyle was generally prosecuting the neglectful or abusive parents of Craig’s kids, and Craig testified. He had developed a healthy respect for the lawyer, who could have made far more money doing something else, and chose to champion those who needed it instead.  

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Broflovski.  Come in! Hey, Stan.”

 

“People I drink with call me Kyle,” Kyle said, grinning.  His red curls poked out of his hat at strange angles, looking far more wild than they did when Craig saw him in court.  Stan gave Craig an embarrassed smile. 

 

“Sorry about on the phone.  I was just panicking. You’re good at calming me down.”  Craig waved a hand like it was no big deal and took a heavy box from Stan’s hands.  He set it on the table and glanced inside, curious. Bottles of liquor he couldn’t even name off the top of his head sat inside.  He raised an eyebrow at Stan. “Hey, we’re upset. We can overindulge tonight.”  
  
Kyle produced three shot glasses from his pockets and poured a generous amount of vodka into each.  “Cheers.” Craig took the shot, grimacing at the taste. Kyle’s face mirrored his. “Grab some regular glasses.”  

 

Stan poured half a glass of a green liquid into each cup, then added water and sugar.  Craig watched, nonplussed.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Absinthe,” Kyle said.  “Good for heartbreak.” Craig tried it.  It was good, strong, but sweet, with a hint of liquorice and spice.  He smiled as the first shot hit him, and leaned back as Stan talked more about Wendy.  He was surprised when after a few minutes, Stan turned back to him.

 

“I just keep talking about myself.  What about you, Craig? Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, taking a long sip of his absinthe.  Kyle and Stan waited. “I was seeing this guy,” he admitted. “Just casually.  He started out as a friend and feelings… I guess feelings 

happened. I guess things ended today.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“We…”  Craig thought about it, trying to be honest, but not sound like a lunatic.  “We just were too different. I tried to kiss him and he… I don’t know. I just realized we were too different.”   
  


“Was it bad?”

“No!” Craig said emphatically.  “No, it was good. Really good… I don’t know.  It’s complicated.”

 

“Whatever, fuck love,” Stan said.  He poured more liquor into the shot glasses and handed them to Craig and Kyle.  “To friendship.”

 

“To friendship,” Kyle and Craig echoed.  Another knock echoed around the room. Craig glanced at the others, confused, but went to open it.  

 

“Craaaig!” Cartman said, grinning broadly.  “I see you already started the party.” He and Kenny entered the apartment, Kenny shrugging apologetically. 

 

“We were bored.  Cool if we come in?”

 

“Sure.  Kyle and Stan, meet Kenny and Cartman.  We’re just talking about love and how it sucks.  Want alcohol?” They helped themselves. Cartman put a six-pack next to the huge box of liquor.

 

“Love does suck,” Kenny said, pouring himself a generous helping of absinthe into a glass.  “I avoid the whole thing. Sex good, love bad. Life’s way better that way.”

 

“I might have to take up that philosophy,” Craig said, finishing his drink and pouring himself another.  Tweek’s face swam in front of his eyes. He might never see it again. He swallowed his feelings with the liquor.  “Fuck feelings.”

 

“You guys are pussies,” Cartman said, nursing a beer.  “Feelings aren’t that bad. You’ve just got to be man enough to handle them.”

 

“Is there a romantic hidden under all that flubber?” Kenny asked.  Cartman flipped him off. “Easy man. When was the last time you went out with someone.”

 

“I’ve got high standards.  When I meet the right gay homosexual, I’ll go out with him.”

 

“Who  _ are  _ you?” Craig asked stupidly.  “Are you high?”

 

“Fuck you, Craig.  What about you… Kahl, right?”

 

“Kyle,” Kyle corrected.  His eyes were locked on Cartman, and Craig nearly felt the sparks passing between them.  “I’m open to whatever happens.”

 

“See, I’m not the only one that’s not a feelings-constipated asshole.”

“Well for us love-haters, another shot.  You two can sit in the corner alone,” Craig said.

 

“I like you drunk,” Kenny declared.  “You’re brutal.” Kenny, Craig, and Stan took another shot.  Craig held the vodka bottle behind his back as Kyle and Cartman lazily tried to swipe it.  Eventually, he gave up and passed it to them. Cartman drank straight from the bottle, then handed it to Kyle.  Kyle’s hand lingered for a long moment on Cartman’s and Craig grinned. At least something good had come from the miserable day.

 

He found himself growing quite tipsy.  Stan’s blathering on about Wendy became more interesting, and soon he joined the others in comforting him.  Then, in his tipsy state, he found himself unable to stop Tweek from spilling out of his 

mouth.  “I know I shouldn’t be into him.  We have totally different values. But.  He’s so hot,” Craig said, dragging out the ‘o’ in ‘so.’

“Where’d you meet him?”

“The street,” he lied.  “We ran into each other.  We weren’t even friends at first.  And now I ruined everything by kissing him.”

“Heh, stupid asshole,” Cartman said.  “You can’t ruin anything by kissing someone.  He’s probably just freaked out. He’ll come back.”

“No, I ruined it.  He said he wouldn’t come back.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Cartman replied.  “Look, if he’s gunna run away because you kissed him, he doesn’t deserve you.  You’ll find somebody better.” Craig took another drink, still miserable. He mustered up a smile for Cartman, though, who flipped him off as though to prove he was still a hard-ass.  “And Stan, you need to get your shit together. That bitch ain’t worth it. She fuckin’ cheated on you and sold your dog, man.”

“But she’s Wendy.”

“Dude, what the fuck does that even mean?” Cartman asked.  “I’m gunna go for a smoke. Anyone want to join me? Kahl?”

“I don’t smoke.”  They stared at each other for a long moment, and Cartman raised an eyebrow.  

“Back at  _ my place?” _

“Oh,” Kyle said, turning tomato red.  He glanced around at the others. Craig gave him an encouraging wave.  “Alright.” The two left, and those that remained burst into laughter.

“He thinks,” Kenny choked through gales of laughter.  “He thinks he’s so subtle.”

“You have to admit, for Cartman that  _ was _ subtle,” Craig said.

“I’m happy for him,” Stan said.  “Kyle I mean. He’s such a tight-ass.  He needs to get laid.”

“Well…” Craig grinned at his own cleverness.  “Cartman might appreciate that trait.” They all burst into laughter again.  Craig poured them another round of shots, spilling some on the table. He stared at it stupidly for a moment, then decided to let it go until tomorrow.

“To life,” Kenny said, slurring the word.  “And to alcohol.”

“To drowning our sorrows,” Stan said.  He glanced at Kenny curiously. “So what are you?  Are you gay like everyone else here?”

Kenny grinned.  “You’re cut off.”

“No, I don’t mean anything.  Just- like, curious.”

“Well I’m pan.  And not just pan, a pan slut.  I fuck anybody. Feelings are stupid.  But sex is fun.”

“Good to see you’re entirely over your abusive childhood,” Craig quipped.  Kenny raised his middle finger. Craig caught Stan’s eyes and collapsed into laughter again.  

At the end of the night, the three of them lay sprawled on the ground, not close enough to touch but close enough that if any of them rolled over, the others would know.  Craig sent them home easy enough in the morning. A note and a pile of bills sat on the table. He moved the empty bottles and read.

_ Pastor- _

_ I trust you know the best place for this.  Odds are it’s best used for you. Take care of yourself. _

_ T _

Craig sat down on his bed and allowed himself a solid three minutes to mope.  Then he got up and took a shower. He combed his hair and brushed his teeth, refusing to think.  He tried not to think about Tweek as he went about his day. By evening, he was too exhausted, his nerves too fried.  He ate the rest of his leftovers in bed and put his plate on the floor when he was through. When he slept, he dreamt of Tweek hovering above him, making snarky comments as he preached to his children. 

Craig made it through the week, trying to ignore the fluttery nervous feeling.  Tweek was gone forever. He would learn to live with that. He’d survived before Tweek, he’d get by without him too.  But the world felt darker, like he was living in an eternal sunset. There were a few things, though, that made it brighter.  Kenny topped the list.

He stopped by a few days after Tweek disappeared, in the evening when Craig had returned from leading his youth group.  Kenny’s hair was brushed for once, and his eyes looked brighter than normal. For once, there was no liquor in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, awkwardly leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” Craig returned.  “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Kenny said.  “And I realized I don’t have your number. So I decided to stop by.  You were having a rough time the other night.” Craig stepped out of the doorway and Kenny came in.  Craig saw him glance at the clothes and plates on the floor, but to his credit, he didn’t mention it.  

“I’ll be okay,” Craig said.  “I just need some time.”

“Time and distractions.”  Kenny glanced at the floor again, then back at Craig.  “Come out with me tonight.”

Craig laughed.  “I can’t. I don’t have time.  Or money. Or energy. I’m going to stay in and work on Sunday’s sermon.”

Kenny grabbed his wrist rather forcefully.  “You need to get out of your apartment. It’s a mess.  This’ll help. I promise. But it’s not optional. Get dressed.”

"I could tell you to get out of my apartment," Craig said.  Kenny gave him a shit-eating grin. "If I wanted to."

"But you won't.  So you might as well make the best of it and just get dressed.  It'll be better for everyone that way. Come on, I'll help you pick out a shirt."

Craig grumbled and put up as much resistance as he could, but a part of him was glad Kenny was there.  The man was right; he needed to get out of the house. He wasn't quite sure what "going out" meant to Kenny, but a part of him was almost excited to see.  He picked a black v-neck shirt and tight jeans. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kenny eyeing him approvingly and he grinned. 

"Ready to go?" he asked.  Kenny nodded. They took an Uber down to Fairplay, to a club Craig had never heard of before.  There was a long line outside, full of clearly gay people, but Kenny ignored the line and walked straight up to the bouncer.  Craig followed a few steps behind.

"Hey Phil," Kenny said, grinning at a mountain of a man who guarded the entrance.

"Kenny," Phil said with a nod.  "Been a while since I've seen you."

"Ya know.  Life gets busy.  Trying to cheer my friend up today."  Phil gave Craig an appraising glance, then nodded.  
  
"You always bring the cute ones."  
  
"You know it," Kenny said with a wink.  Phil waved them in, and Craig thought he felt eyes on his ass the entire walk into the club.  The club was dark, dark and full of a kind of sexual energy. Craig usually tried to avoid places like this for his own sanity.  They never led anywhere good. He shivered as Kenny's arm looped around his waist and drug him towards the bar. "Two manhattans," Kenny ordered, flashing another grin at the bartender.  Craig sipped at his drink, watching the revelry on the dance floor. Two half-naked men danced in cages, ignoring the sea of hands that reached through the bars, coming close to their skin.  Men and women danced with each other, too close, grinding together in a cacophony of flesh. Kenny's arm didn't leave his waist, and Craig felt his stiff muscles begin to relax. He leaned into Kenny's body, shivering, suddenly realizing how good it felt to be touched like that.  Kenny's hand traced gentle circles along his back. They drank in silence, watching the dancers and feeling the loud beat of the music through their bodies.   
  


"Dance with me," Kenny said suddenly.  Craig took his hand and allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor.  He felt out of control, his body responding to outside cues, his mind just following suite.  It wasn't a bad feeling, in fact, it felt nice to feel out of control for once, to let Kenny lead.  Kenny's hands found their way to his waist, pulling their bodies together. Craig felt the heat radiating between them, a kind of energy so different from the nervous type he shared with Tweek.  This was darker, more knowing. Kenny knew exactly what he was doing, and they both wanted this. Craig might have even gone as far as to say he needed it right now. Their groins pressed together, thrumming and vibrating in time with the beat.  Kenny's hands slipped lower, landing on his ass. He found he didn't mind, especially as Kenny's warm breath hit his ear, sending another shiver down his spine.  
  
The music seemed to slow until it became a series of deep beats that reverberated through Craig's whole body.  He was suddenly very conscious of his sensitive skin, of the fact that he could feel the air on his arms, feel each line in Kenny's hands through his pants, feel just a slight brush of Kenny's long dirt-blond hair against his cheek.  fter a few songs, in his strange, dream-like state Craig wasn't sure how many, Kenny pulled away.

  
"Another drink," he said.  Craig followed. Kenny ordered them some cocktail he'd never heard of.  It was strong and sweet, the type that was sure to give him a killer hangover.  He didn't care. Kenny grabbed his hand and led him to an enclosed patio outside.  The quiet, the cool air on his face, the smell of alcohol rushed over him like a tranquil wave.    
  


"If we do this we can't make it weird," Kenny said.  "You're getting over someone, I don't want anything serious.  You're a hot guy, and I'd love to fuck you, but you're also my friend.  And that's more important. So if you don't think you can handle this, tell me now.  You're worth way more to me as a friend."

  
"That's pretty gay," Craig said.  Kenny hit his arm. "Sorry. Look, I'm attracted to you.  And god knows I need a distraction right now. But you're Karen's brother.  The last thing I want to do is make it weird. I'd miss having you around."  
  


"Then it's settled," Kenny said, stepping closer.  Craig let Kenny step into his arms, let the shorter man lean up.  Their lips met and Craig let himself, for once, give into what his body wanted.  
  
They made their way back to Craig's apartment, exploring each others' body's in the back of an Uber.  Craig's skin tingled, ready for more. They collapsed together onto the bed, pulling off clothing as they did so.  Craig laughed as Kenny struggled with his pants.  

"God could these be any tighter?" Kenny asked.  

"You didn't seem to mind a few minutes ago."

"Shuddup," Kenny groaned, finally pulling them off.  Craig flipped him over, straddling him as he tried to pull Kenny's shirt off.  Finally, finally, he succeeded, revealing Kenny's lithe chest, and a surprising amount of muscle for such a thin frame.  Craig leaned forward, his hands exploring every inch of Kenny's soft skin, tweaking his hard nipples and earning a surprised moan from Kenny.  Craig pulled off his own shirt, and pressed his chest against Kenny's. Kenny's hands wrapped around the back of Craig's neck, pulling their faces together.  Their noses bumped, but when their lips met, it hardly seemed to matter. Kenny was like a drug, his body so similar, yet so different, than Tweek's, his dark, obvious sensuality intoxicating.  They kissed for what felt like hours, Kenny's hands slipping lower and lower all the while. A hand slipped under his the waistband of Craig's boxers, and Kenny exhaled hard. Craig felt a hand close around his cock.

  
"Jesus Christ," Kenny whispered.  Craig's eyes slipped closed as the hand moved up and down, stroking him gently.  "You're packing heat, Craig. Who fucking knew a pastor could be this big?"

"We're all this big," Craig groaned, fumbling with Kenny's boxers.  "It's just no one wants to fuck pastors."

"Well, fuck," Kenny said, breathlessly.  "Consider me converted. I'll never fuck a nonpastor again."  Kenny squirmed out from under him and pulled his boxers off, revealing a modest cock and shaved balls.  Craig felt a small flash of disappointment; he'd always had a thing for small dicks, but got over it soon enough as he saw just how hard Kenny was, and the lustful mist in his eyes as he pulled Craig's boxers off and threw them to the floor.  Craig felt himself being pushed back to sit on the bed, and Kenny knelt between his knees. Craig couldn't escape the moan that escaped his lips as Kenny's mouth touched his stomach, then kissed down from his belly button. Kenny stopped inches from Craig's dick and glanced up at him.  The submission, the way Kenny looked up at him like he'd be happy on his knees under Craig forever, made his cock twitch. Kenny smirked and slowly, carefully, took Craig into his mouth. 

Craig heard an involuntary hiss of air escape his mouth as Kenny swallowed him to the hilt, one of his hands putting gentle pressure on Craig's balls.  He was surrounded by heat, by warmth, and he thrust forward to meet Kenny's rhythm. He found himself moaning in seconds, the head of his cock hitting the back of Kenny's throat with each of Kenny's seemingly effortless deep-throats.     
  
"Ah," he groaned, his hands resting on the back of Kenny's head.  "You're good at that."   
  
  
"It's one of my favorite past times," Kenny said, pulling away with a grin.  "And they say do what you love, so..."   
  
  
"Get on the bed," Craig ordered, stroking his wet cock.   
  
  
"Do you have lube?"   
  
  
"Side table."  Kenny pulled a large bottle from the drawer with his eyebrows raised.

  
  


"Naughty, naughty, pastor."

  
  


"I wish," Craig said, grinning.  "It's... been a while. That's mostly for myself."  He cursed himself as he realized how desperate the words sounded, but Kenny didn't seem to mind.  The blond squirted a modest amount into his hand and reached for Craig, rubbing the cold liquid from his head to his shaft.  Then Kenny got on his hands in knees on the mattress, directly in front of Craig, who felt himself grow, shockingly, even harder at the sight of Kenny presenting.  He lined himself up, his head pressed up against Kenny's hole, then slowly pushed in. He nearly came instantly. Kenny whined, high-pitched and needy, and Craig's eyes slipped closed again as he was consumed by the tight, warm, heat. He took a few deep breaths to control himself, then slowly began to thrust in and out, savoring the feeling of it.     
  
  
"Harder," Kenny whispered brokenly beneath him.  Craig's fingers dug into Kenny's hips as he complied, pulling the smaller man onto his cock more quickly, harder.  He pushed in as hard as he could, Kenny's ass clinging to him with every thrust. Craig felt himself beginning to lose control.  "Faster. Please," Kenny moaned.   
  
"If I go faster I'm going to cum," Craig admitted, his hand grasping Kenny's cock, stroking him in time with his threats.  

  
"Cum in me," Kenny gasped.  Craig's thrusts grew less controlled, more primal.  He leaned forward, pulling Kenny along with him, both of them grunting and moaning like animals.  Craig bottomed out and came, his cock spasming deep inside Kenny as he stroked the man beneath him to completion.  He felt something splash against his hand as Kenny twitched and moaned. They stayed like that for a moment, panting.  Then Kenny slipped out from under him. "You're pretty good at that, pastor," Kenny said, grinning at him.   
  
  
  
"You're not exactly bad yourself," Craig said, laying on his back on the bed.  Kenny sat beside him. "This doesn't change anything, right? Still friends?"   
  
  
  
"Still friends," Kenny agreed.  "But I wouldn't mind doing that again sometime."  Craig glanced at him. Kenny's cheeks were red with exertion, and there were hand marks around his hips.  He looked like a whore undone. Despite having just cum, Craig felt himself growing hard again.   
  
  
"Yeah, we can be friends that fuck and bitch about love to each other," he said casually.  "Who knows, maybe we'll even last more than five minutes next time."   
  
  
"We can practice till we last longer."  They talked for a few minutes before Craig pulled Kenny on top of him, their bodies resonating together like finely tuned instruments.  The second time was longer, and kept Craig distracted with lust and feeling. When Kenny left, though, all he could think about was the little demon named Tweek, who he'd kissed, and now would probably never see again.   His heart ached until he finally fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Craig gave up on Tweek returning after the second week without him.  The letters stopped too, and all the remained of the demon was a pile of cash and memory.  It didn't matter, Craig told himself, in fact it was a good thing that a literal demon from hell was no longer trying to turn him to the dark side.  Logically, he knew that. But Tweek haunted his dreams and his waking hours, and every so often he thought he heard the sound of large wings flapping, or the warmth of Tweek's lips on his.  It was stupid. He'd barely known the imp, really, for a few months. Why was he so consumed?  
  
He tried to drown it out.  He and Kenny forgot their pain together as often as they were both free.  Their bodies responded to each other, and he liked Kenny's company. The man was a welcome distraction against Craig's feelings, which he tried not to examine too closely.  Emily haunted him daily. He thought of her, and he tried to spend more time with the kids he didn't know as well. He cried at night sometimes, which scared him more than anything else.   He wasn't a crier, and certainly wasn't used to shedding tears several times a week.

He considered going to therapy, then changed his mind.  He didn't need therapy. Therapy was for people with real problems, and being in love- he stopped that thought right there.  It wasn't helpful. Or true. Having a crush on a demon certainly wasn't a real problem. It was the kind of "problem" that would get him locked up.    


His sessions with Kenny became his therapy, in some ways for both of them.  They'd fuck, but after they never cuddled, never acted like anything beyond pure chemical attraction was there.  If there was more than that, Craig didn't want to know, and neither, it seemed, did Kenny. Sometimes, though, when they were fully clothed, they talked.

  
"I wish I could tell you," Kenny said one day, studying his fingernails.  "but you'd lock me up."

  
"Please," Craig scoffed.  "Like I'd have any right to do that after- what I wish I could tell you."

 

"I guarantee mine is worse," Kenny said.  He paused for a moment, thoughtful. "We can both agree this is a weird town, though, right?  With all the stories of alien abduction, and that time Barbara Streisand grew huge and tore the town apart."  
  
  
"God, can we agree to that," Craig said.  

  
"So if weird things are still happening- to both of us, that is- it doesn't mean we're crazy.  Right?"

  
"Does having crazy sex count as being crazy?" Craig asked.  Kenny shoved him, scowling.

  
"I'm trying to be serious here.  I don't think either of us are crazy.  I don't think- whatever it is you're going through with this mysterious guy who up and 'disappeared'- I don't think it makes you crazy."

  
"Would you just tell me what your thing is?" Craig asked.  Kenny shook his head. They let it go and returned to fucking.  That was what they were good at, after all.   
  
Craig learned to survive without Tweek.  He wasn't happy, not really, but he had moments of peace, most of them with Kenny.  Or the children, who clung to his every word as they dealt with Emily's funeral. Emily's parents came to him after a few days, after youth group was over.  He'd seen them before, of course. The both of them were devout, and they attended church with Pastor Thomas, same as he did. He had always thought of Emily's mother as a distinguished woman, one who might seem cold or aloof, but always knew what she stood for.  Now she stood before him, the personification of grief. Her hair hung lank and unwashed to her shoulders. The ghost of makeup clung under her eyes, exaggerating the shadows, making her seem skeletal, less than human. Emily's father, too, looked a mess. He had always been a jovial, if somewhat overweight, man, but now, any hope of joy was gone from his face, and folds of skin hung from his body, like wrapping from a mummy.  The two of them stood there, waiting for him. 

  
"Hannah," he said, hoping he got her name right.  "James. I am so sorry for your loss."

  
"I never prayed, not the way I was supposed to," Hannah said.  "I mean, I went to church. I was there. But it never meant anything more than a social hour to me.  But now- now I want to know how. I'd go to Pastor Thomas. But you knew her. I want to ask you. How do I get through this?"

 

Craig stared at her.  Here this woman was, begging for help, and he had no idea how to answer her.  How could he? He'd never lost a child. He'd never even had a child. How could he possibly give her any advice?  "I wish I could tell you something to make this better. I can't. Hannah didn't deserve this, and you don't deserve the pain you're going through."

  
"Did god do this?" James asked, voice low and angry.  "Did your god- did he kill our daughter?"

  
Craig stared at him.  He'd been wondering the same thing, but he couldn't exactly say that.  "God's ways are not our ways," he said instead. "It might be impossible to think about right now but god had a plan for Emily, and he has a plan for you too.  He sees your pain right now. But Emily is safe with him. He will heal your pain with time. I wish I could tell you more. I don't know god's mysteries any better than anyone else.  But I know the two of you will find comfort someday. If you trust in God, he will heal you."  
  
"Your faith is strong, pastor," Hannah said.  "I pray you never have to lose a child."  


"As do I.  I'm sorry, excuse me," Craig said, spotting Kenny standing by the door.  "I hope you both find some peace, knowing how loved she was."

 

"Thank you, pastor," Hannah said.  James said nothing, he just stood there with his jaw clenched.  Craig scurried away, feeling like a coward. He stood next to Kenny and tried to force up a smile.

 

"What are you doing here?"

  
"I wanted to see you in your element."  Kenny's eyes tracked Emily's parents as they walked despondently out of the church.  "Is that who I think it is?"

  
"Emily's parents," Craig replied, feeling another stab of anxiety.  "I didn't know what to tell them."

 

"Whatever you could have said, it wouldn't be enough," Kenny said.  They stared at each other, the silence echoing around the empty gym.  "Craig, are you okay?"

  
"Why wouldn't I be?"  Kenny looked away.   
  
"Come home with me."

  
"Alright."  They had sex in Kenny's bed, quietly, so as not to wake Cartman or Karen.  It felt different, sadder, but somehow better. When they finished, Craig burst into tears, finally letting himself fall apart.

  
"Craig," Kenny said softly.  "Hey. It's okay."

  
Craig didn't answer.  He couldn't find the words to reassure Kenny, or to make himself feel better.  He just let himself dissolve into tears. Kenny stroked his back awkwardly. When he regained control of himself, he pulled away.  
  
"I think I have to stop doing this," he admitted.  Kenny nodded, seeming unsurprised. "I'm a mess right now.  And this- it started out simple, but lately- lately it feels like things are growing more and more complicated.  I need to get a handle on myself first. And then maybe-"  
  
"I understand," Kenny said, eyes far away, walled.  "I'll miss this though. It was- it was a lot of fun."  
  
"Yeah," Craig said, forcing a smile.  He choked down the rest of his tears. "It really was.  Do you still want- still want to be friends?"

  
"Of course I do," Kenny said, frowning.  "I don't let sex get in the way of important things.  Especially lately. You've- well you've become one of my best friends.  I wouldn't lose that over fucking. You're stuck with me."

  
"Guess I'll have to find another way to get rid of you." They smiled at each other for a moment more, then Craig put on his clothes.  He left, feeling sad for more than just the loss of sex. There was something about Kenny that he was drawn to magnetically. They were so similar sometimes, so different others.  They worked well together.

  
"Stupid complications," he mumbled to himself as he walked home.

  
"What sort of complications?" His heart stopped as he recognized the voice.

  
"Where the hell have you been?"  


"Hell," Tweek replied.    
  
"And how was that?"  Craig kept his voice even and emotionless.  He didn't look at the demon who hovered a few feet in the air beside him.

  
"It was- AH! Hellish.  Things aren't exactly great down there right now."  
  
"Well they're not that great up here either."

  
Tweek hovered higher, his feet at the level of Craig's head.  "I'm sorry I haven't been there."

  
"I don't care," Craig lied.  He sped up. Tweek followed effortlessly.  "I didn't need you to be here. I thought you were gone for good. Thought my soul was safe, and then here you are, back to haunt me again.  When are you going back to Hell?"

  
"I don't know," Tweek said.  Craig glanced over, catching a glimpse of Tweek's hurt expression.  For half a second, he felt guilty. Craig unlocked his apartment and stepped inside, shooting the demon a glare, daring him to come in.  Tweek knocked at the door, and Craig opened it, staring stone-faced at the intruder.

  
"I thought you didn't have to be invited in."

  
"I don't.  I'm just trying to be polite."

  
"God, what did they do to you down there?"

  
"Can I come in?  I just want to explain myself."

  
"No," Craig said evenly.  "Fuck off." Tweek frowned, and disappeared, leaving nothing but a puff of smoke behind.  Craig watched the smoke dissipate, then closed the door, righteous satisfaction and guilty hurt battling in his mind.  He poured a larger drink than usual and passed out before he could think any harder about it.  
  
He woke, as a part of him knew he would, to a note on the table.He scowled, but read it anyway.

  
_Dear Pastor Tucker-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Since you didn't want to hear me out in person, I'm taking the coward's way and writing you a letter.  I apologize that there's no cash attached this time._ _  
_   
_I'm sorry that I was gone for so long.  I'm sorry that I didn't tell you where I was, or that I'd be back.  Part of the truth is that things were busy in Hell, what with the uprising and everything, but that's not the whole truth.   I was afraid of being around you. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself, or that you'd push me away. It was easier to leave, not to deal with the situation.  I'm a coward, I know. And there are a lot of 'I's in this letter. But I plan on staying around. Can we just forget anything happened?_

 

_I mean, I'm your imp and I'll be around either way.  But I'd be eternally grateful for your forgiveness. I'll see you this afternoon.  As always, take care of yourself._

 

_Tweek_

 

Craig sighed.  "You can come out," he yelled.  The demon materialized on his bed, looking guilty.

 

"Forgive me?"

 

"Not by a long shot," Craig retorted.  "But I am going to be the bigger person here and turn the other cheek."

 

"How brave of you."

 

"Tell me about the war in hell."

 

"Oh," Tweek said, falling backwards dramatically.  Craig refused to smile. "That's a shit-show if I've ever seen one."

 

"Why? I thought Saddam was defeated."

"We thought so too.  I guess- where was he gunna go?  Detroit?"

Craig inclined his head.  "So they need everyone down there right now, do they?"

"Everyone.  I'll be back and forth until things are sorted."  Craig filed away the information.

"And Saddam- where is he getting his supporters?"

"Mostly from the new arrivals.  Most of Hell's citizens like Satan.  As far as evil masters go, he's pretty great.  Saddam would be much worse."

 

"Huh," Craig said, crossing his legs together.   Tweek mimicked the motion. "So would Saddam try to get me on his side rather than God's?  Because if not, I think I prefer him."  
  
"Oh no," Tweek said, expression deadly serious.  "No, he'd just kill you. Satan tries to convert men like you to maximize your effect on the human world.  Saddam doesn't give a shit about that. Satan's the master of subtlety, but Saddam just wants to destroy everything in his path that he doesn't want to fuck.  It's in your best interest for my lord to stay in control."

  
"I don't give a shit either way," Craig said.  "I don't plan on ever visiting Hell, and if Saddam kills me, I'll be in paradise sooner than expected."

  
"Sure," Tweek mumbled.  He studied Craig's face.  "I haven't had time to follow this world.  You look different. What changed?"

 

"Everything changed.  The world changed. You weren't here for it, so I don't see any reason you need to know."  Tweek nodded slowly. They fell into silence, and Craig picked up his laptop, just to have something to do.  He browsed the internet, ignoring Tweek, who twitched and tapped his foot, staring at the edge of the bed.

 

"I'll give you backstory if you give me backstory," Tweek said suddenly, standing up.  Craig glanced at him, trying to appear uninterested.

 

"And what makes you think I'm still interested in learning anything about you?"

"Religious curiosity?" Craig shrugged.

 "Fine."

 "Fine."  Tweek glanced over Craig's face again.  "So, what changed, pastor?"

 Craig felt his stomach twist.  He almost didn't want to tell the imp; he could be hurt by the news.  But another voice in his head reminded him that Tweek was the one that left.  He deserved to be hurt. "I-I was involved with a friend of mine. Sexually. It made me feel better about the whole- the Emily thing.  And it was fun. I suppose, if I'm being honest, it changed me."  
  
  
"Oh," Tweek said, his face flashing with surprise.  He bit his bottom lip, frowned, then composed his face.  "Well- well good for you. Wait, it wasn't the fat man who lives with Karen, was it?"

"Cartman?" he asked.  Tweek nodded. The imp's eyebrows were still pressed together into a dark line on his forehead.  "No. It wasn't Cartman."

  
"Was it someone I know?"

  
"Why do you care?" Craig asked flatly.

 

"Just making conversation," Tweek said.  "You seemed worked up about it and I figured you'd like to share.  Even if it's just to me."

 

"It was Kenny," he said, watching with twisted satisfaction as Tweek's face fell.  The imp was probably just upset that Craig was happy. Misery was the only thing that brought people to the devil, he told himself, so Tweek wanted him as miserable as possible.  Come to think of it, that was probably why Tweek had left in the first place; to make Craig miserable.

 

"He seems nice," Tweek said, not sounding at all like he meant it.  "Are you going to keep seeing him, then?"

 

"Yes," Craig lied.  "We get along well. We have a lot in common."

 

"That's good," Tweek said, visibly gritting his teeth together.  "I'm happy for you."

 

"Thank you," Craig growled.  "Your turn. Backstory."

 

"Oh, I have some backstory," Tweek hissed.  They glared at each other. "Right after I started my hundred years, Satan and I became involved.  I slept with him the whole hundred years, and half a century after before we decided we worked better as friends.  I figure since you let me in about your love life, you’d like to hear about mine.”

 

"That explains a lot," Craig spat.  "You're already the devil's whore, here consorting me for him.  Makes sense you would have done that literally too."

 

"Consorting?  Really? You think I've been consorting you? AH!  If I'd been consorting you, I could have had you the first time we met, Tucker.  Consorting you. You idiot."

 

"You're the idiot," Craig said sourly.  "I can't believe you fucked the literal devil.  I thought at least you'd have some standards."

 

Tweek's face flushed red, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he was stopping himself from speaking.  "Can we talk about what happened before I left?" he asked finally, scowl lightening.

 

"Fine," Craig said, crossing his arms and waiting.  Tweek watched him, then sighed.

 

"It's not that I didn't want to."

 

"Doesn't matter, because I didn't want to."

 

"Can I finish?" Tweek glared at him for a moment before continuing.  "It's not that I didn't want to, pastor. You're an attractive man, you know that.  I just didn't want you to regret it. It would have been a fun night, sure, but after that?  I'd never be able to get my job done. You'd never have talked to me again. I'm a literal demon from hell, and you're a Christian pastor.  How would you have justified it to yourself in the morning? Like you said, it was a heat of the moment thing. It doesn't have to mean anything."

 

"It doesn't mean anything," Craig said.  Why didn't the demon get it? "I don't care, Tweek.  It happened, I was stupid. Nothing like that's ever going to happen again."

 

"Fine."

 

"Fine."  They stared at each other for a moment longer.  Craig looked away first. "Want to go play basketball?"

 

Tweek shrugged, tugging at his wings.  "Fine."

 

"Fine."  They played for what felt like hours.  Craig would admit it, he was taking all of his anger and frustration out on the imp.  He felt feral, like he had released something inside of him that wanted to move, sweat, and push Tweek out of the way to get to the ball.  The imp hardly seemed to mind; if anything he was in just as much of a mood as Craig was. They clawed and fought each other under the thin guise of going for the ball, and by the time they finally stopped, both were panting and exhausted.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some violence in this chapter, so if that triggers you, you might want to skip this one.

Craig's muscles ached.  He rubbed his legs gingerly, feeling several places he was sure would bruise in a few days.  

"Next time," Tweek gasped, wings flapping haphazardly on each side of his body.  "Remind me to take some stronger pain meds first."

"Demons feel pain?" Craig asked. 

"Sure.  What else would be the point of Hell?"  Craig nodded. He groaned. "What?"

"We have to get up," Craig said.  "And walk. All the way back."

"You do," Tweek said, giving Craig just a hint of his smile.  "I'm gone. See you later, pastor." He disappeared into thin air.  Craig swore after him, wincing as he pulled himself to his feet. He limped back home, cursing the demon with every step he took.

Sally arrived at the church early, startling him from his reverie.  "Hello," he said politely. She sat in the chair in front of his desk, her face streaked with mascara, hands clasped together in some strange facsimile of prayer, one that didn't reach her face.

"Pastor, I don't know if I can keep this baby," she said without preamble.

"What?" he asked, surprised.  "Last time you said you wanted this baby, no matter the consequences.  What made you change your mind?"

"I-I just can't do it alone.  I can't- I don't want to have to raise a child alone."  Tears poured down her cheeks, and Craig had a fleeting, guilty thought about how much of his time he was spending with criers lately.  "It was one thing when Firkle was around, but now? Now, I have to do it by myself in this- this provincial little town. I'll be stuck forever.  The baby will be stuck with me forever. And did you know depression can be catching."

"Sally-"

"Pastor, I need you to help me.  Please. I can't keep this baby, I just can't do it.  I need to find a family who can take it. I can't-"   
  
"Sally take some deep breaths for me," Craig said.  Sally was hyperventilating, barely able to choke her words out.  She paused, taking in a few shaky breaths, then pushing the air out.  "Good job, keep going. You don't want to hyperventilate too much. You'll pass out."  Sally took a few more breaths, gripping the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white.  

  
"Please help me," she whispered.  Craig leaned forward, over the desk.

  
"Of course I'll help you, Sally.  Keep breathing, alright? Have you told your mom you want to give the baby up?"

  
"Not yet," she admitted.  "I don't think she'll take it well.

 

 "I think she might surprise you," Craig said on instinct.  Sally finally met his eyes. 

 

"Do you think I'm a coward?"

 

"No," Craig said, as gently as he could.  "I think you're in a situation I'll never have to deal with, and I think you're handling it admirably.  As well as anyone could. "You're going to be fine. I promise. I'm here, and your mother will be too. You don't have to figure this out alone.  If you want to give up the baby, we'll help you find someone. And if you decide to keep it, that's fine too. How are you feeling? Physically, I mean."

 

"I'm alright.  Better than last week."

 

"Good.  Less nausea?"  They talked for over an hour before Sally left, seeming calmer.  He watched her go, uneasy. When Tweek reappeared, he barely glanced the demon's way.  

 

"Cat got your tongue" Tweek asked.

 

"No," he said slowly.  "I'm not in the mood, Tweek."

 

"Well get in the mood, cus I've got news."  Craig sighed, shaking his head. "I'm going to leave again.  I hope just for a few days. But- but things aren't looking good, pastor."

 

He finally turned to look at the little imp.  Tweek's hair was awry, flat for once, laying against his face like it was wet or something.  Scorch marks and deep-looking cuts lined every inch of his skin, from his face to his exposed chest.  Even his leather pants had holes. Craig felt concern rising in him despite himself. "What does that mean?  Things aren't looking good?"

 

"It means..." Tweek sighed and rubbed his forehead.  "It probably doesn't mean anything for you. Anything for anyone within the next hundred years or so.  I mean it could. But probably, it means that hell will change. It will have a new ruler. And those of us who were loyal to the old one... well, you may not have to worry about me showing up and complicating your life anymore."

 

"Don't go back," Craig said, voice shaking.  "Stay here, don't go back there."

 

Tweek smiled at him, the same sad smile he'd worn after they kissed.  "I would if this were just about you.  AH! You and me. But it's about my friends- my family.  It's about my world, Pastor. And maybe yours too. I've got to be there. I have to do everything I can."

  
  


"Can I come with you?  If it affects my world too-"

 

"No.  I'm sorry.  Only immortals and the dead can enter the realms beyond without an escort.  It's too dangerous."

  
  


"An escort?  Would you take me with you?  Please, Tweek, I need to know what happens..." _to you,_ he thought, disgusted with himself.

 

"AH! I'm of that world.  So no. Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I couldn't take you.  Stay here. Live your life well. Think of me sometimes, if you can."

 

"Every day," Craig said.  He grabbed Tweek's arm on impulse.  "You can't leave me here knowing the world could end.  I'll go mad."

 

"Your world will be fine.  Saddam will be trapped in hell, far from you.  You'll be fine."

 

"But you won't." 

 

"No," Tweek said.  "That's why I wanted to say goodbye.  You'll finally be free of me."

 

Craig stared at him, emotions warring within.  Tweek's eyes were calmer than he'd ever seen them, cool blue, gazing back at Craig like he could never get enough.  "I don't think I want to be free of you."

 

"You will want to be," Tweek assured him.  "As soon as you are. You'll be fine, Craig.  You're resilient."

 

Craig grabbed Tweek's other arm.  "You can't leave," he repeated, staring deep into Tweek's eyes.  Their faces moved closer together, and Craig closed his eyes in anticipation, leaning forward. Tweek's arms gently stroked his waist, pulling him in.  Then the pressure was gone. He fell to the ground hard as Tweek disappeared into smoke. Craig's lips closed around nothing.  

 

"God dammit," he muttered.  He glanced up at the sky, then down at his feet.  "Fuck you, Tweek," he yelled, hoping some part of the demon heard him.  "Fuck," he muttered more quietly. 

He glanced around his office, picking up his bag and throwing a few loose papers into it with abandon.  He ambled off, out of the church and into the street, not sure where he was going. Cars honked until Craig made his way to the sidewalk, dazed.  He walked for maybe a half hour, sweet beading on his forehead, before he realized he'd walked to Kenny's apartment.  He knocked on the door, still not sure what his plan was, what he planned to fucking accomplish by knocking on his ex's door. Kenny opened it. They stared at each other for a long moment.

 

"Craig," Kenny said finally.  He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said this was over."

 

"It is- I-I need your help," Craig said.  Kenny's eyebrow raised.

 

"Anything." 

 

"You told me once that there were strange things happening in South Park.  I need to know now, Kenny. I have to know what you know."

 

Kenny stared at him for another moment, then nodded, his face sad.  "Come in." 

 

Craig sat on Kenny's bed, for the first time, fully dressed.  They didn't speak, they merely sat, close enough to feel one another's heat, but far enough that Craig felt miles apart from him.  They didn't look at each other. It wouldn't help. Craig merely waited until he had the courage to speak.

 

"I think I'm falling in love with a demon."

 

"Ah," Kenny said.  "That sounds pretty serious."

 

"It is now," he said.  "He's going to die. Really die.  And here I am, alone, waiting to hear that he's gone forever.  Or- or never to hear anything about him again.  I can't just sit here and wait. I have to get to him before it's too late. I have to get to Hell."

 

"You know some people would call you insane."

 

"Not you.  I don't know what you know, but you know enough to know I'm not crazy.  I need help, Kenny. Can you help me?'

 

Kenny sighed, still glaring straight ahead.  His eyes went all sorts of far away, and for a moment Craig thought Kenny had forgotten he was there.  "I know about Hell. I've been there a couple times. If I tell you this, there's no going back, Craig.  You might be in more danger than you know."

 

"I don't give a shit," Craig said, taking in a deep breath through his teeth.  "I need to make sure he's okay. I know it's stupid. I can't leave him there. I just can't-"

 

"The only way to get to hell is to die," Kenny said.  Finally, Craig turned to look at him. Kenny's face was gravely serious.  "That's the only way you'll find him."

 

"How do you know this?"

 

Kenny stood, laughing a humourless laugh.  "I've died too many times to count. I keep coming back.  Sometimes it takes hours. Other times it's taken so long I wasn't sure I'd ever make it back.  But I come back. Every... every time, I come back." He walked to the window, gazed out of it, seeing nothing.  "I've been to Hell and it's not exactly a place you go to vacation. But if you want me to go, if you think it will help bring your friend back.  I'll do it."

 

"I need to come with you," Craig said, shaking his head.  "I need to find him-"

 

"Craig, you'll die.  And I can't promise you'll come back.  If you come with me, I've never taken anyone with me.  I don't know if you'll be able to come back."

 

"But you'll come back," he said, glaring at the back of Kenny's head.  "You'll come back no matter what, right?"

 

"I'll come back.  I'm drawn back. Every time, I'm drawn back, whether I want to be or not."

 

"Good."  Craig set his jaw, saying a silent goodbye to the world.  "Then take me there. Take me. Please, Kenny. I'll give you anything you want."

 

"You don't have to give me anything.  I want you to be happy." They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Kenny walked quickly to his closet.  He pulled out a long silver knife, then glanced back at Craig. "There's only one way to hell. Are you sure you can handle it?"

 

"I-I have to," Craig said, steeling himself.  "I don't care about the cost."

 

"Okay."  Kenny held the knife to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut.  Craig watched as the blade entered his skin, as his blood began to pour to the floor.  Kenny fell, his face stoic and cold, and Craig grabbed the knife before it could fall with him.  He stared at it for a moment, with the shimmery red liquid dripping down to the hilt, gleaming silver in the kitchen light.  He held the knife to his own chest, glaring at it, begging it to slide between his ribs, to move of its own accord, because there was no way he could do it.  He jumped a foot in the air as he felt a deathly-cold hand grip his arm. Kenny's bloodshot eyes stared into his, swimming in agony. Flames errupted from the floor as Craig was pulled down, down down, down by the dead man who he'd enlisted into his hopeless cause.  

 

Craig fell through the fire, feeling the burning all around his skin, somehow not burning him, not exactly, just the air around him.  He fell for what seemed like hours, the cold of Kenny's hand meeting the heat of the flames in a deadly harmony, a meeting of his will, the will to live that he sometimes thought he had, and the thread that drew him to the demon, the one drawing him down to hell.  Hot and cold melded together until he could no longer tell which was which. The last thing he realized before everything faded to black was that there were tears drying on his cheeks, falling, falling down with him into darkness.

 

When he awoke, he was still in the dark.  Kenny was nowhere to be seen. Hell, he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face.  He pulled himself to his feet slowly, feeling cold stone beneath him.

 

"Hello?" he called.  "Kenny?' There was no answer, only darkness.  He began to walk forward slowly, his hand in front of him in case any walls appeared out of the black.  None did. The air wasn't cold, but it wasn't exactly warm either. He walked through the darkness, expecting something, an unknown, something he couldn't find, but something.  And all he got was nothing.

 

His legs grew tired, and his eyes weak from squinting through darkness.  He walked on. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, wasn't sure if he was going to find it.  Nevertheless, his legs kept moving forward, and the rest of his body followed. Hours later, he found what he'd been waiting for.  It was nothing, really. Nothing more than a candle alone in the dark. He sat beside it and gazed into the light, his weary legs relieved at finally grabbing a moment's rest.  The candle flickered under his breath, and he waited, waited for something to happen. Eventually it did.

 

The spirit, for it was hardly more than a coagulation of smoke in the form of a person,  gradually appeared in front of Craig. It was formless, genderless, but oddly human. Craig waited.  It spoke. 

 

"What are you doing here in the land of the dead?"

 

"I'm here to find someone," Craig said unflinchingly.  He knew he should be worrying, panicking, but he wasn't.  This was where he was meant to be. "And then I'll leave again."

 

"Don't touch what isn't yours.  Do not linger more than you need, or you'll be lost."

 

"I know," Craig said without quite realizing he'd spoken.  The smoke dissipated into the air one wisp at a time until nothing remained.  As though of its own accord, the candle blew out, and once more, Craig was in darkness.  He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He let it out through his nose. His hands found his way to his heart, overlapping.  His breath became more even, out of his control, and his mind floated. He knew when he opened his eyes, he would be there, but he lingered in the calm, black space for just a moment, savoring it, savoring the nothing he felt.  Slowly, a millimeter at a time, he let his eyes open. Flames, heat, and Hell surrounded him.

 

"Well hello," a snide voice said.  Craig felt his ribs being jabbed with something metal.  "New arrival, eh? Love to be your first, baby." The metal dragged down his back, leaving goosebumps and scratches behind.  

 

"What the fuck." Craig said, deadpan.  The demon moved to face him. It was man-shaped, sort of, like Tweek, but his wings were larger and darker, dirtier, with holes in them.  He held a huge metal pitchfork with a tail curled around it, and his cloven feet tapped at the ground. The demon-man's face turned to the side, puzzled.

 

"You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

 

"No," Craig said impulsively.  "I'm looking for someone. Will you help me?"

 

"That depends.  Who's this someone?"

 

"Tweek?"

 

The demon's face grew comically surprised.  "Satan's guy, Tweek?"

 

Craig felt like the pitchfork had grazed his heart.  He scowled. "I guess."

 

"Why you lookin' for him?"

 

"Does it matter?"

 

The demon put his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow.  "It does if you're expecting me to help you, mate. I don't know that Master Tweek will be that happy about a human showing up down here.  You want to kill him or something?"

 

"Sometimes," Craig said, wincing as he stood.  "Not today. I just want to find him. To talk to him."  The demon stared at him, rubbing his chin.

 

"It's not exactly going to be an easy thing to do at the moment.  There's a bloody war goin' on, you know."

 

"I know," Craig said,  He rubbed his leg, wondering where he'd hurt it, whether it was phantom pain or something more real.  "Do you know where to find him?"

 

"Sure I do.  But what's in it for me?" 

 

"What do you want?" Craig asked, feeling his pockets for lost change.  "I don't have much with me."

 

"I don't need much.  But that friend of yours... He's got a lot of influence over the big man, eh?  Maybe he could put in a word for my promotion."

 

"Okay," Craig said, nodding.  "I can do that. What's your name?"

 

"D'Trachkra.  My friends call me Tracks.  What about you, human, what do they call you?"

 

"Craig."  The demon frowned, sounding out the name silently.

 

"You humans... I'll never understand your 'cute' little meaningless names.  Well, follow me, Craig. If we're hunting down the big men, I'm going to need a drink first." 


	8. Chapter 8

Tracks led him down the rocky tunnel, which opened up into a wide cavern, full of demons and humans going about their days. The ceiling stood at least fifty feet above the floor, and a few unlucky souls were chained to it, shrieking every so often as the hot air rose around their bodies.  Craig followed Tracks through the crowd, trying to ignore the screaming and gruntings around him. Eventually they stopped at a building carved into the rock with a wooden door and a sign that read "The Water of Life." 

 

"Welcome to hell, mate," Tracks said, grinning with his sharp teeth poking over his bottom lip.  Craig forced up a grin in return and following the demon through the worn wood door. The inside of the bar was just as chaotic as the outside.  Humans and demons sat together talking in booths around the sides of the building, and a dance floor opened up in the middle of the room. A beautiful woman with dark brown horns that stood out dark against her blonde hair slow danced with a corpulent human-looking person with her head on his shoulder.  Two demons, Craig couldn't tell if they were fighting or flirting, had their horns locked together and their arms wrapped around each other, whirling around the dancefloor growling, an imitation of a dance. 

 

"C'mon," Tracks muttered, and Craig realized he'd been frozen in place.  He followed the demon to the bar and took a seat between Tracks and a huge demonic being that was sipping on some sort of pink cocktail.  "Two witch’s wines, please," Tracks said to the barmaid, a tiny girl with blue horns and a bright smile. 

 

"Absolutely, sir.  Give me just a moment."  She scurried away.

 

"How do you pay here?" Craig asked.  Tracks pulled out a handful of black stones and waved them in front of Craig's nose.  He nodded, just happy they weren't human eyeballs or something equally disgusting. 

 

"Two singles," the bartender said, placing two glasses of misty green liquid in front of them.  "Three parts water, one part liquor. A tablespoon of sugar in each, hope it's to your liking. Now you just holler if you need anything else, alright?"

 

Craig forced another smile at her and she walked away.  He looked into the green liquor, hesitant. "Is this some weird hell drink that's going to kill me?"

 

"Nah, just witch wine.  A little stronger than you can get at your average liquor store above ground, and there might be a hallucination or two, but it won't kill you.  Drink up." Craig took a sip, feeling the licorice-mint of the alcohol burning down his throat, familiar and alien at once. He gulped it down nonetheless, feeling it burn pleasantly all the way to his stomach.  "So what brings you to the underworld, Craig?"

 

"I'm trying to find Tweek, I already told you that."

 

"Sure, sure," Tracks said, raising an eyebrow.  "I mean why are you trying to find him? What are you doing in a hostile place for humans in the middle of a war?  Surely you knew about that, but then again, who's stupid enough to come waltzing into Hell knowing there's a war going on?  You might not be dead yet, but stay here in the middle of a crisis zone and you fuckin' will be."

 

"I know," Craig sighed.  "I know. But I couldn't leave him to die here all alone... We were... friends... Sort of.  I think... I can't leave him here."

 

"I get it," Tracks said, taking a long gulp of his drink.  "So you- you what? How'd you get down here with your body and soul still connected?"

 

"A-a friend took me here.  At least part of the way. But I lost him.  I don't have any idea where he is now-"

 

"Calm down," the demon said, suddenly looking uncomfortable.  Craig took a few deep breaths, realizing that the volume of his voice had been gradually growing.  "You'll find your mysterious friend. And Tweek too. Just so long as you tell the Great One I'm up to be a commander.  That's all I need. I'll help you with the rest, sunshine."

  
  


"Don't call me sunshine."  He took another long gulp, beginning to feel the effects crawling under his skin, pushing his worries to the back of his mind.  "I guess maybe my friend came straight here. I had to got through... I don't know what it was. This darkness. There was a candle and a thing made out of smoke."

 

The demon's red skin paled.  "You went through purgatory. Damn.  Maybe you're more important than I thought.   Most of us don't go through there. We just show up here one day like nothing happened.  The in-between is a serious place, even for those who still cling to life."

 

"Serious- serious how?" 

 

"Serious as in no one goes there unless there's a good reason.  It's empty. Nearly always empty. That's kind of the point, love."

 

"Don't call me that either."  They glared at each other for a moment, then Craig took another long swig of his drink and his anger disappeared.  The edges of his vision grew fuzzy, and he shook his head to clear it. "How long have you been here?"

 

"Long enough to be bored by that question.  I wasn't like- a human, before, or anything.  I just- I guess I was created by the master. Most of my time is greeting new arrivals.  In- in a friendly way, mind you. I only give em what they crave."

 

"Right," Craig said.  He was bored already. He focused on the tingling feeling in his legs, the sense of peace that his mind was succumbing to all too fast.  "Tell me about your life here."

 

"Oh," the demon said laughing.  "You'd be bored by that. Why don't you tell me about your life?  On the surface? Must be absolutely fascinating."

 

"It's- it's draining."  Before he knew it, Craig was explaining the ins and outs of his life as a pastor.  Tracks made a good audience. He listened with rapt attention, only breaking eye-contact to nod or take a sip of his drink.  When Craig finally finished, he stared for a few moments, then drank the rest of his drink. When he finished, his head was swimming pleasantly.  He wasn't sure anymore what he wanted, what was right and what wasn't. The world dissolved around him, and nothing was left but the figure made from smoke.

 

"Hello," Craig said, shockingly pleased to see it again.

 

"Don't linger," the figure warned.  "You'll grow content and trap yourself in complacency."

 

"I know," he said.  "I won't be trapped."

 

"So many have spoken the same words."  The figure faded all at once, smoke blown away by the wind.  Craig's eyes followed it, then gradually focused back on his reality.  Tracks was gazing at him, his eyes clouded over.

 

"Hallucination?"

 

"What have you gotten me into?"  Craig asked. The demon took his arm.

 

Track's led him out of the bar, smiling back at him every so often reassuringly.  Craig followed. Soon they were back in the dim cavern that held the human and demon walkers.  Tracks grinned all the while, gripping Craig's elbow like he was afraid to lose what he'd been promised to get from Tweek.  Craig put a hand on top of the demon's, holding tight as they waved through the crowd. The road, if you could call a worn stone path a road, grew wider and more crowded the further they walked, until Craig felt like he was back in a traffic jam on I-25.  

 

"Is it always this bad?" Craig asked.

 

"Oh we've had a ridiculous amount of influx lately," the demon said, rolling his eyes.  "Something about Trump supporters? So many old people supported that dick. And now they crowd our roads and benefits.  Dumb little fucks. Ought to make it my point to torture the lot of em."

 

"Ah," Craig said awkwardly.  "You know at least they're finally starting to coming down here, not crowding up our streets above ground.  You've got to have miles wide available space here for road-work."

 

"Less than you'd think," Tracks sulked.  "This isn't our biggest road, but it's up there.  Not like we can have gas-powered vehicles down here without killing ourselves.  Though I guess that's true above too, and you lot don't seem to care that much."

  
  


"I- touche," Craig said.  "You guys could always go electric."

  
  


"Right," Tracks said.  "Convince the big guys that could be a viable option and you just might do some good.  Meanwhile, we've got an hour or more left of walking before we even enter the war zone."  Craig groaned, unable to stop himself. He kept walking, feet beginning to ache as he pushed himself on.  He'd known it wouldn't be easy, but god, he'd never guessed how physically uncomfortable it would be. Not to mention, he'd thought Kenny would be right there beside him the whole time. Maybe Kenny hadn't made it to Hell.  Maybe he wasn't supposed to be there. Heaven was just as real, and, in Craig's opinion, Kenny deserved to be there more anyone. So it could be entirely possible he was a stranger alone in a hostile land, with no one but a  demon to show him the way. 

  
  


"So do you have a wife demon?  Or a husband? Or girlfriend, or- or whatever."

 

"Nah, I like to roll solo," the demon said, a faraway look in his eyes.  "Every so often I think I find someone I could settle down with. And I try for a bit.  But then- I don't know if they change or I just get bored. It never works out. It doesn't help that I've got my pick of the lot.  I'm very attractive by demon standards, you know."

 

"Oh, I'm sure," Craig said politely.

 

"What about you?  Besides this mysterious Tweek guy that you may or may not be involved with?"

 

"Not," Craig said.  The demon wiggled his eyebrows.  "No. My work is my life. And the thing I love most in the world.  How could anyone possibly compete with that?"

 

"Someone who sends you to Hell competes with that, mate.  Or someone you follow to Hell. If you won't admit it to me, at least admit it to yourself."  Craig scowled and refused to respond. Thoughts pounded at the fortress he'd placed around his brain.  He pushed them away, trying not to think about it. It didn't matter, anyway, what his feelings for Tweek were.  He might never see the demon again. They walked on in silence until they hit the edge of the carnage.

 

The main road thinned as traffic cleared up.  Soon, there were only stragglers ahead and behind them.  The road grew darker too. Whatever light- demonic or otherwise- that had been lighting the tunnel before began to dim as they walked until Craig could hardly see more than shadows before them.  He nearly ran into a demon's corpse that lay on the battle field, alone, desolate, stiller than the rocks around it.

 

"Raise a glass," Tracks said solemnly, placing two fingers to his chest.  Craig copied the motion, unsure of the direct meaning, aware of the sentiment.  

 

"Whose side was he on?"

 

"Does it matter?" Tracks asked, for once seeming unwilling to speak further.  Craig let him brood. They walked on, carefully stepping over the bodies. They didn't come across live fighting until hours later.  The first sign was the bright orange flame of fire, and smoke curling and accumulating along the narrow ceiling in front of them. Finally, Tracks looked at Craig again.  "This is your last chance to turn back. Are you sure this is what you want?"

 

"Why are you trying to stop me?"

  
  


"Good point," Tracks said, shrugging.  They broke into a run together, running past demons fighting each other, faces curled into masks of fury.  A sword grazed Craig's leg, leaving a shallow cut and torn fabric, but Craig hardly felt it. His heart pounded, propelling him forward at nearly break-neck speed.  Swords and arrows wizzed, some aiming at Craig and Tracks, others at foes all around them. Craig couldn't tell which side was which, or anything at all about the battle.  It was just bloodlust, chaos, and fear, strung together by the metallic smell of blood in the air. By the time they emerged on the other side of the battle, they were both scored with cuts and bruises.  They stared at each other, solemnly, as a man in a bright red uniform approached them, scowling.

 

"Where are your combats, gentlemen?"

 

Craig exchanged a confused glance with Tracks.  "Our whats?"

 

The general groaned and rolled his eyes.  "Your uniforms. Where are your uniforms?"

 

"We er- we don't have any, sir," Tracks said, tugging at his leather clothing.  

 

"What side are you on?" The tall demon asked suspiciously, his hand gripping the hilt of the sword in his belt.  "Are you spies? How'd you even get all the way over here?"

 

"Not spies," Tracks said, holding his hands up in surrender.  "We're just passing through. I swear to Satan." Tracks' hand covered his mouth as soon as he said the last word, and Craig said a silent prayer that the general was on the right side of the war.  The man remained stone-faced, unreadable. Then he grunted and glanced away.

 

"Stupid civilians wandering through a war-zone like it's Disney Land," he muttered under his breath.  "And where are you passing to?"

 

"We need to get to the front lines," Tracks said before Craig could speak.  "We've got something one of the big man's right-hand man will want to see."

 

The general's eyes rolled so far into his head that Craig feared they'd get stuck there.  "Yeah, you and every other want-to-be hero west of the Styx. And what do you have that's so valuable to the cause?"

 

"Not to the cause," Tracks said.  "To General Tweek. This one here."  Tracks lowered his voice and leaned to whisper to the general.  "He's alive, see, and he knows the general on a... personal basis."

 

The general held up a hand, body stiffening, eyes sharpening at them.  "He's alive, you say? Boy, are you alive?"

 

"Yeesss," Craig said slowly, taking a step back in case he needed to run.  "But I'm not here to screw anything up for you, I promise."

 

"Whatever," the man said.  "If you're truly alive, we need you.  You've got power here we can't even dream of."

 

"Power that could defeat Saddam?" Tracks asked, looking at Craig through new eyes.  "Like what kind of power could that be? Just cus he's a breather?"

 

The general ignored Tracks and turned to Craig, eyes shining with a feverish fire.  "Look, son, if you're here to see Tweek you believe in the cause, don't you?"

 

"I-I guess," Craig said uncertainly, unable to look away from the general. 

 

"Fight with us.  We might stand a chance if you fight with us."

 

Craig laughed, despite the tension.  "I don't fight. I've never fought. I'm a fucking pastor above ground, for G- for Satan's sake."

 

"I don't give a shit," the general said, gripping both of his arms.  "It doesn't matter what you were up there. You're useful down here. Fight with me tomorrow and I'll help you find your friend."

 

"How?" Craig asked.  

 

"Magic," the general said.  

 

Craig followed him back to the camp, a humble arrangement of tents in a catacomb of caves.  The general stayed silent, but glanced back at Craig every few steps as though terrified he'd stopped following.  Finally, they arrived at a larger tent near the center of the camp, and walked inside. The demons within snapped to attention at the sight of the general.

 

"At ease," he said.  He beckoned Craig forward.  "I've brought you one untrained but with a huge potential to swing the tide of the war.  Gargamuth!"

 

"Yessir!" a thin, nervous-looking demon said, snapping into a solute.  

 

"You and Kravetus train him in the basics.  Enough to wreak some destruction tomorrow and hold the gravelands.  Understood?"

 

"I'll do my best, sir," Gargamuth said, soluting again.  The general nodded. 

 

"See that you do and there's a hefty bonus on the other side of this mess.  Same goes for you, Kravetus." A chubby demon with small horns nodded vigorously.  "This might be the best chance we've got. Help me use it. I'll check on your progress in a few hours."

 

"Yes SIR!" the ten or so men in the tent shouted.  The general walked out, holding tightly to Tracks' arm.  Craig felt very alone. They all stared at him, sizing him up.  Gargamuth spoke first.

 

"You ever done magic before, private?"

 

"No," Craig said quietly.  "And I'm not a private. At least I don't think I am."

 

"Right," Gargamuth said.  "You a civ, then?"

 

"Umm," Craig said, biting his lip.  He caught a few looks shared between the soldiers and tried to ignore them.  

 

"Okay," Gargamuth said reassuringly.  Craig took in a few breaths. "Everyone but Krav, clear out.  Go practice in your bunks." There was a collective murmur, but the tent gradually emptied until no one besides Craig and two demons remained.  They stared at him awkwardly. He stared back, trying to hold his ground.

 

"So you're a live one, huh?" Kravetus asked, scratching between his lower fat roll.  "You ever done magic before?"

 

"No," Craig said, frowning.

 

"He wouldn't have, idiot," Gargamuth said.  "Most of em can't do magic above ground. That's what makes em so powerful down here.  You ever done any meditation, kid?"

 

"Sure," Craig said.  "I was a pastor. Am a pastor.  I've done tons of it."

 

"Well good.  That's the basic idea, really.  Meditate, clear your mind, then let your anchor summon what they want through you.  It uses your soul to power it."

 

"Won't that...  won't that kill me?" Craig asked.  The two looked at each other and laughed a little too heartily.

 

"Nah, probably not," the fat one said.  "Life force regenerates, ya know, so as long as you don't push yourself too hard, you'll be fine.  Probably."

 

"Very reassuring," Craig said rolling his eyes.  "Look, I don't know if I really want to do this."

 

"Well," the thin one said, voice surprisingly cheerful.  "If you decide not to, then we're all dead. But that could happen anyways.  And this is Hell. We're not about taking away people's free will here, so you do you.  If you want to help, though, we've got to start training now."

 

Craig sighed and rubbed his forehead.  "So you think it'll save the world if I do it?"

 

"Sure," the demon said amiably.  "It'll give us a shot at saving our world.  And the people in it."

 

"Fine," Craig said.  He followed the demons' instructions and sat on the floor, kneeling with his feet beneath him.  He let his eyes slip closed, hoping he didn't look too stupid, and took a deep breath in through his nose.  He let the air out through his mouth, then let his mind slide into the calm, thoughtless state that he clung to during hours of prayer or study.  A fiery hot hand gripped his own, but in his trance-like state, he didn't care. In fact, it felt rather nice. Then he felt a strange sensation, like his blood was draining out of his palm and into the demon.  His eyes snapped open, and his breathing quickened.

 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked.  The thin demon sighed. 

 

"It's supposed to feel weird.  That's how it works. You have to ignore it.  Don't let me break your concentration or the spell won't work."  Craig glared at him, then tried to get his breathing back under control.  He let his mind slide back into nothingness, let the demon grab his hand once again.  The strange draining sensation resumed, but he focused on his breath, the deep inhales and exhales, his mind above his body, and this time, let the draining happen.  He grew tired after a few moments, like he'd ran a mile or played basketball for an hour, and he felt a drip of sweat fall into his eye. He blinked rapidly, and the demon let go. 

 

"Sorry," Craig said, trying to refocus his eyes to the brightness of the room.  "Guess I lost focus again."

 

Gargamuth grinned at him, and pointed in front of them.  Craig drew in a sharp breath. In front of them stood a group of at least twenty men, dressed in full battle attire.  They seemed to be formed from a dense sort of smoke, present and at the same time not fully there. They looked straight ahead with eyeless faces, perfect soldiers.  

 

"Did it work?" Craig asked, breathless.

 

"It fuckin' looks like it, doesn't it," Gargamuth said.  "We can, you know, summon easy things like fire, water, brimstone, wind... But actual soldiers?  You might save us yet, human. Let's just let you meditate. Recharge a while. We'll practice a bit more, but you need to save most of your strength for tomorrow."

 

"Understood," Craig said.  He let his eyes slip shut, and slid into his meditative state once more.  This time, no one touched him, and he sat there, meditating, for what could have been seconds or years, Craig wasn't sure.  But when he emerged, the fat demon, Kravetus, was smiling at him like he'd done something exceptional, and the tent was crowded with shadowy demons, dressed in full armour.

 

"The General's right," Kravetus said gleefully.  "You are talented. Made hundreds of soldiers over night and you're still bursting to the brim with power.  Living humans. Maybe there's a market there."

 

"How many of the living ever make it here?"

 

"Not many," the thin demon cut in, looking pale and drawn.  "Not enough, or we'd have no problem at all holding on to Satan's reign.  Look, Pastor Tucker. Don't push yourself further than you can push. Anything you can give us is more than we would have without you.  Keep yourself alive, and help as much as you can. But if you can't do more than you've already done, don't. Keep yourself alive. We'll keep our cause alive.  Understood?"

  
  


"Yessir," Craig said, feeling somehow stronger than ever.  "I think I'll be alright. I think I- I think I can really do this."

 

"Good," Gargamuth, the thinner demon, said.  "Then we ride. At dawn."

 

"How do you people know when dawn is here?"

 

"We guestimate," the demon admitted.  "Give it an hour or so." Craig gave it an hour.  It was as dark in the tunnels as it had always been.  Nothing changed, but the demons perked their heads up at the same time and gave a nod to Craig.  It must be time. He followed them out of the tent and came face to face with the same General that had led him to the magic tent the night before.

 

"Sir," Craig said, trying to solute, the best way he knew how.

 

"Civilian Tucker," the general said, examining him from his head to his toes.  "I trust your training went as planned."

 

"I think so, sir," Craig managed, before his voice started to crack.  He took another couple deep breaths. "I think it went fine, sir. How does the rest of the war go?"

 

"It goes alright," the general said, his mouth forced into a thin line.  "It will work. I'm sure of it. i saw your creations from last night. Bloody brilliant, the lot of you.  I saw your army, human. They were vast, resolved. Do you see them?"

 

"I see them," Craig said slowly, the phantom soldiers revealing themselves in front of him, whole, real, all two present.  "Are they there, do you see them?"

 

"Yes," the demon breathed, deeply, taking the essence of Craig's cure hopefully.  "That's nearly three hundred extra soldiers, the remnants of soldiers who might never have existed.  Or who existed opposite our cause you have referred. You might just save us yet, pastor. Stay with Gargamuth.  We'll get the both of you on a cart behind the fray. You can conjure what is needed."

 

"When do I see Tweek?" Craig asked.  He felt suddenly exhausted, drained. His eyes slipped closed, and it took tremendous effort to force them open again.

 

"Survive today," the general said, face grim.  "Survive today and tomorrow we join with General Tweek's forces.  Don't push yourself too far. If you do, you die."

 

"Very reassuring," Craig said sarcastically, rubbing his head.  He took a few deep breaths, feeling steadying hands on each of his elbows propping him upright, leading him forward.  The general's face swam in front of him, frowning in disapproval. He walked past it, feeling as though he were floating.  Gargamuth walked beside him on the left, and Kravetus stood on his right. Both looked grim, resigned. Craig let them lead him, wondering if he was going to die, if the two demons knew he was going to die and simply didn't care.  If he died, at least if he died after he'd let the demons drain him of life, maybe Tweek could live. If he died, Tweek's whole world could be saved, and maybe Craig's as well. A rush of peace hit him so hard his knees buckled. For once, he was certain he was doing the right thing.

 

The demons set him down on a small wooden cart, and Gargamuth sat beside him.  Kravetus murmured something under his breath, and Gargamuth replied. Craig found his eyes closing.  He slid back into the meditative state of the night before, breathing deeply, letting his thoughts float away.  It was comfortable there. He was less tired. At peace. Not fully conscious, but not unaware either. Craig found he never wanted to leave, never wanted to return to the real world, the world where a war waged, where the person he liked- hell, what was the point of lying to himself- loved, was in mortal danger.  Here, here in his own world, he was at peace. 

  
  


Somewhere, somewhere far away from where his mind dwelt, Craig felt someone take his hand.  He gasped, his mind dragged closer to the real world. He felt like his body had been splashed with ice-cold water.  The feeling was shocking, wrong... but somehow it made him feel alive. He focused on his breath, letting the demon suck the life from him one inch at a time.  His thoughts faded. The warm, comforting feeling of meaningless apathy grew. Nothing mattered. He didn't matter. The demon world, whether it was led by the devil or an evil dead dude, didn't matter.  All that mattered was the sensations he felt, the icy grip bringing him closer to death and the warm comfort that spread through his chest, telling him that death was release. Peace.

 

And then the ice withdrew.  So did the warmth. He sat in lukewarm air, trying to pull himself out.  

 

"Pastor?" a tentative voice asked.  Craig tried to answer, but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.  "Pastor, it's over. You can stop."

 

"Is he dead?" a different person asked.  Craig tried to blink. He recognized that voice from somewhere.  Somewhere far away.

 

"No," the first said.  "No, he's just stuck, sir."

 

"What the fuck does that mean?"

 

"He went into a deep... a sleep-like state.  Give him a couple minutes and he'll probably come out, sir."

 

"How dare you.  How dare you- you use him when you knew it could kill him?"

 

"He wanted us to," the first voice said, trembling.  "He-he wanted to help and-"

 

"Do I look like I give a shit?" the second voice said, high and shrill.  Craig felt it in his heart, vibrating through him, waking him. "How dare you?  You had no right- no- AH! no permission. You used him- and for what? Some minor battle on the outskirts of Gomorrah?"

 

"I'm sorry if it offends you, sir, but-"

 

"But nothing.  Get out."

 

"What?  You can't-"

 

"Get.  Out." Footsteps hurried away.  There was silence. "Craig? Craig, can you hear me?"

 

Craig focused on his eyes, peeling them open a centimeter at a time.  Tweek's worried face swam in front of his vision. His eyes slipped closed again.  The silence returned. He slipped into unconsciousness. 

 

When he woke, he was laying in a soft bed with the covers pulled up to his chin.  He was warm, and this time his eyes had no trouble opening. He blinked. Tweek stood over him, wings fluttering helplessly.  His hair was spiked back into it's usual points, and a large bruise clouded his left eye. He was glaring at Craig with a fierce intensity, looking like he'd be happy to tear him limb from limb right there.  "What the fuck are you doing here, Tucker?"

 

"Sleeping," he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.  "You're alive."

 

"I'm alive.  Thanks to that fucking idiot who used you as a human juice box.  What the fuck were you thinking? Are you- AH! Are you suicidal? How'd you even get down here?"

 

"So it worked?"

 

"Did it-"  Tweek threw his hands in the air.  His spikes twitched in indignation.  "Did it work? It nearly got you murdered, and for what?  To buy us an extra day to get in the fight? You're a fucking reckless idiot.  I'd ask what you were thinking, but it's clear you weren't." Craig smiled. Tweek's face turned burgundy.  "Who in all of burning bloody hell did you trick into- AH! Into bringing you down here?"

 

"I didn't trick anyone," Craig said, rubbing his head.  He felt like he could go back to sleep for another eight hours.  "And I didn't kill myself either."

 

"Well I gathered that.  If you'd killed yourself you'd be more- dead."

 

"I hitched a ride with a friend who comes down here sometimes."

 

"Hitched- Kenny McKormick brought you down here, didn't he?"  Craig tried not to look guilty. "You're tangling with forces you don't understand.  Hell- I don't understand them. I don't know if we'll even be able to get you back to the surface at all.  Did you think about that when you followed a dead man down here, Tucker? Did you think at all? What if you never make it home?"

 

"Then I don't go home," Craig said, defiantly staring up at the imp, wishing he had the strength to at least prop himself up on an elbow or something.  "I made my choice, Tweek. You don't have to get all uppity about it."

 

"Uppit- I didn't even know you were here," Tweek screeched.  "I heard about it third-hand from some- some idiot demonic know it all.  By the time I got here... I thought it'd be too late. I thought I'd find you dead in the underworld, fighting in a war that's not even yours, you idiot.  So don't you dare call me uppity."

 

"Sorry," Craig mumbled.  

 

"Goddamn right you are.  Now you're going to stay out of sight, in safety, behind the goddamn battlefront until we can find your fuck-buddy and send you home.  If we even fucking can. And if you so much as take a step towards the field, if I catch you talking to those voodoo-ass pretenders again, I will tie you up and torture you for the next hundred years."

 

"That's fair," Craig said, his eyes slipping closed unintentionally.  He forced them back open. "Tweek?"

 

"What?" Craig's eyes slid shut again and this time they stuck.

 

"It's good to see you."  Tweek's soft sigh filled the room.  Craig wasn't sure if he answered. He didn't wake again until the next day.

 


	9. Chapter 9

This time, Craig woke up feeling like he'd actually rested. And he was alone. He pulled himself to his feet, and immediately sat back down, his vision swimming with black spots. He gave himself a moment to adjust, then, more slowly this time, stood. A tray with a glass of water and a chunk of bread sat on a table. He walked the five feet to a chair, feeling like he was running a mile, and collapsed again. His hands .trembled, he noticed with fascination. He ate the bread and took a few sips of water. After a few minutes, he felt stronger. He opened the dresser and groaned. All black, mostly leather, clothes sat in neatly folded piles. He pulled out a shirt. Too small. He wore it anyway, forcing himself into leather pants that gripped his skin. He tottered out of the room, trying to fix the wedgie and comb his hair with his fingers at the same time.

Eventually he made it to a huge room where men and women sat around a table, arguing animatedly with each other. No one noticed him come in.

"We have the numbers now. We have to make a direct strike and attack while they're weak."

"It would be suicide. Do you want to be the one to lead thousands of our people to their demise?"

"To save the world, yes." The first voice, which belonged to a thin, irritated man with round wire glasses, rose, blending with the others around him. Craig watched the room dissolved into hysterics, scanning for Tweek. Instead, he found a red-cheeked demon who looked out of place in his loose clothing, a wide smile on his face like he was just happy to be included.

"Tracks," Craig said, surprised how happy he was to see him. "What're you doing here?"

"Pastor Craig," Tracks yelped, and Craig found himself pulled into a tight, uncomfortably warm embrace. "I heard you almost died! You look good."

"Almost," Craig grinned. "Where'd you go?"

"I got pulled into the fight." Tracks' eyes shown with bloodlust. "I did pretty good. Then the General showed up and started blasting everyone-"

"Blasting?"

"With fire and lightening. I told him I was lookin' out for you. Tryin' to step in when the commander pressured you with the magic bit. And I guess he liked me. I got a promotion. I'm a big-wig now. Well. It's more a ceremonial title than anything that involves actual work, but it comes with a nice pay raise and bragging rights. Guess I've got you to thank for that."

"Thank you for your help," Craig said. "You deserve a nice ceremonial position."

"Right?" Tracks patted him on the back and they grinned at each other for a moment. "I suspect you'll be looking for the General?"

"Or the kitchens- or, or anywhere as long as I'm not in the way."

"Well you want the door across from this one. The one with all the guards. The general and the Big Man have been in there strategizing all day."

"Thanks," Craig said. He made up his mind to avoid that room. "Tracks- have you heard of anyone else coming down? Anyone- you know, human? And- and sort of alive?"

"Still haven't found your friend, have you? No. I haven't heard. The underworld's a big place. He could be anywhere. My advice? Focus on surviving the next few weeks first. You're still alive at the end of that? Then worry about your friend."

Craig nodded unhappily and made his exit. He walked aimlessly through the building- the house- admiring the grandness of it all. The main walls were carved straight into the stone behind them, intricate designs making the place feel warm. Or that could have been the brimstone lake outside. Compared to the other buildings he'd seen in hell, this one was huge; all on one level, sprawling out for what seemed like a quarter mile. Torches lined the walls, and Craig had to grin at just how old-fashioned it all was. He wondered if the torture devices were medieval too, iron maidens and racks... He shivered. Somehow he made it back to his room. He took another nap. When he woke, he was still alone.

 

He didn't see Tweek again until after dinner, when he said his goodbyes to Tracks and headed off down the hallway toward his room.

"Where do you think you're going?" a burly guard asked him, gripping a spear and blocking the entrance to the room.

"To bed?" he asked stupidly.

"In Master Tweek's room? Likely story. Make it back to your room before I drag you there by your ear, boy."

"Master- Tweek's room?"

"That's right," a voice behind him said. "Let him in, Cletus, he's with me." Cletus nodded and moved aside, giving Craig a mistrusting look as he followed Tweek into the room. Tweek sat on the bed and scratched his wing, glaring at Craig.

"You took me to your room," Craig said. "After- after I fought, I mean. You took me here."

"I wanted you close enough that I could yell at you the second you woke up," Tweek grumbled. "It's nothing."

"Sure," Craig said. He sat beside the imp anyways, studying his face. "So. What's the grand plan to defeat Saddam Hussein once and for all?"

"Fight him," Tweek said simply. "With everything we've got. We fight tomorrow on the East banks of the Styx. They're camped out there. We think Saddam is after something. Something to make him more powerful than he already is. We need to hit 'em hard and figure out what."

"What can I do?"

"You can sit here and think about how stupid you've been," Tweek said, glaring at him. "There's no room for a human in this fight, unless you want to be another body on the battlefield."

"I want to fight-"

"See, stupid." Tweek's mouth was twitching though, and Craig could have sworn he saw an actual smile. "Craig?" Tweek asked with a sigh.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing here? I mean- really. What made you come down here?"

Craig had thought about that. He'd composed a few variations of smooth lines, of fabrications, or stories. But in the moment, the truth spilled out of his mouth. "I- I couldn't leave you down here. Alone. I didn't want to." Tweek's face stayed expressionless. Craig took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to see Tweek's face. "I couldn't stand the thought of never seeing you again."

He kept his eyes shut for as long as he could without looking stupid. A hand touched his face, and unthinkingly he leaned into it. When he opened his eyes, Tweek's face was inches from his own. He didn't dare move, didn't even dare to breathe. Tweek's expression was impenetrable. "You're an idiot," Tweek said. His bright blue eyes were cold and sparkling. "But I'm glad you're here."

Their lips met, pressing together, slower than the first time, the kind of kiss that made Craig want more. His hands tangled in Tweek's hair, and Tweek's hands cupped his face. For a moment, there was nothing but pure sensation, nothing but the feeling of Tweek under him, something he had been wanting more than anything, though he hadn't realized it. Tweek pulled away, searching his face.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"The fuck kind of demon are you?" Craig asked, pulling Tweek's face back to his. He felt the demon laugh against his lips.

"The kind who'd like to not make you get all weird and lose you from the side of darkness forever. You gunna freak out and run away if we do this?"

"If I was going to freak out, it probably would have happened before I followed you to Hell," Craig said, kissing the side of Tweek's mouth. "Now come on, let's fuck tonight while we're both still alive. God knows what'll happen tomorrow." Tweek didn't seem to need another invitation. They kissed again, Tweek's hands roaming across Craig's back, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, then pulling it off. Craig found his hands drawn to Tweek's wings, touching the delicate, leathery skin, which felt surprisingly fragile under his touch. Their bare chests pressed together, and again, Craig was surprised at the warmth, the strength Tweek's little body held. He was more surprised at how much it excited him.

Their hands explored each other, hungry. Craig tugged at Tweek's tight leather pants, grinning when he realized the imp was doing the same to his. "This is why I hate leather. It's impossible to get off."

"Looks pretty good, though," Tweek whispered in his ear. He felt goosebumps break out where the breath touched his neck. "I've seen you checking out my ass every chance you get, like you're being subtle or something."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Craig said. He managed to pull Tweek's pants down to his thighs while Tweek fumbled with his. "Are these yours? I found them in that drawer over there. I didn't know-"

"Keep 'em. They look good on you," Tweek said, grunting as Craig's pants once again snapped back to his hips. "Plus I don't think I'll be able to get them off." Craig groaned and fumbled with them himself. After a few moments, they lay naked together on the bed, covered in sweat. Tweek climbed on top of him, his wings fluttering gently. Their bodies fell together, Tweek's hot skin against Craig's colder. Craig felt his body lighting up, coming alive at Tweek's fingertips. His hands walked their way down Tweek's body, pausing to grip his ass, give it an experimental squeeze with both hands.

"Fuck," he whispered softly. "It's even better than I thought it'd be."

"Goddamn right. I'm proud of that ass," Tweek said, letting his weight fall onto Craig. Craig felt something hard press against his stomach and shivered violently. He flipped Tweek over, and moved a hand below his navel. His hand closed over a throbbingly hard cock, and he let out a soft hiss of air.

"Somebody's excited," he said breathlessly, stroking Tweek. The imp was smaller than he was in every way, his cock too. It was small, alright, and a part of his mind wondered That just made Craig more turned on. Tweek shuddered under him, twitching at his touch, his hands gripping Craig's skin, pulling their groins together. Craig groaned as their cocks touched.

"Seems like you're a little excited yourself, Pastor Tucker."

"Seeing as we're about to fuck, you can call me Craig."

"You think we're about to fuck? How presumptuous." Craig pushed Tweek's hands away and moved down, carressing Tweek's wiry body as he went. He slid Tweek's cock into his mouth, marveling at just how hard he was, the musky taste of him on Craig's tongue. Tweek let out a high-pitched gasp, and Craig felt his own cock twitch in response. He licked down Tweek's shaft, savouring Tweek's twitching body, the way his shaking hands gripped Craig's hair from the roots. Craig felt his head being pressed downward, forcing his throat to open further until he took Tweek's whole dick in his mouth. Tweek began to thrust upward clumsily, hap-hazardly. Craig gripped his hip with one hand and held him to the bed, moving his head up and down in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Stop-" Tweek gasped, pulling away. Craig stopped, looking up in confusion. "I need you to fuck me. Now. I saw that thing. Come on."

Craig grinned. "You got lube?"

"Top drawer. Dresser," Tweek said. Craig felt eyes on him as he stood and rifled through the drawer. He practically ran back to the bed, squirting a handful into his hand as he gazed down at Tweek. Tweek was perfect, every square inch of him. He could have been a renaissance statue or a priceless painting, with his dark red wings stretched out on either side of him, his blonde hair laying around him in disarray. His eyes were a perfect sky-blue, and his stomach had just enough definition to still be soft. He looked like a fallen angel.

  
"I wanted to do this since I first saw you," he said, spreading lube onto his fingers. Tweek spread his legs slowly, staring up at him in silence. "God, you're beautiful. You know that?"  
"Come here," Tweek said, opening his arms in invitation. Craig didn't wait another moment. He slipped a hand between Tweek's legs, grabbing his ass as he lay on top of him. Their lips met, and Craig pushed a finger against Tweek's hole. Slowly, he slipped it inside, eliciting a gasp from Tweek.

  
"Fuck, you're tight," Craig whispered. "I thought you'd been with Satan."

  
Tweek hit his chest, scowling playfully. "I didn't say he was the one who did the fucking, now did I?" Craig curled his finger upward and watched Tweek's eyes roll back. The demon bit his lip, back arching into Craig's touch. Craig finger fucked him slowly, opening him up, taking in Tweek's tiny sighs and muffled grunts when Craig hit his prostate. "More," the imp said, grabbing at his hand.

"In a minute," Craig promised. "I like watching you squirm." Tweek groaned in frustration, trying to pull Craig's hand further. "Hey, be good. You'll get fucked faster."

  
"God dammit, I'm supposed to be the evil one."

"Guess you're a bad influence," Craig said, gently stroking Tweek's prostate, sending another visible shudder through the imp's body. He leaned down, meeting Tweek's lips, his free hand once again caressing the demon's wings. His cock throbbed, begging him just to stop teasing and slip inside the tight, wet, hole beneath him. He resisted the urge, focusing instead on Tweek's frustrated gasps and squirms. Tweek didn't speak, though, glaring at him reproachfully. Eventually, Craig relented and added another finger. Tweek rewarded him with a loud moan, sudden pressure on his cock. Craig felt a rush of pleasure hit him from the slight contact, from the moans echoing around the room and the feeling of having even part of him inside the demon. He scissored his fingers, stretching Tweek open, getting him ready.

"Satan, Craig, just fuck me already. What are you waiting for?"

"Well you're usually the one who decides what happens. With us, I mean. Whether you stay or go. How long you're gone. I think it might be better. If we let me be in control." Tweek groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the bed. Craig laughed, pushing another finger beside the others. Tweek arched toward him, hands clasping around Craig's neck. "If we get out of this, you gotta promise me one thing."

"You fuck me, I'll promise you anything," Tweek said, arching his hips again and pulling himself forward.

"Anything?" Craig pushed his fingers hard, right on Tweek's prostate, eliciting a deep moan and more thrashing.

"Anything! Tell me what it is?"

"After," Craig said. He pulled his fingers out without warning. Tweek whined, but Craig lay a finger across his lips, giving him a mocking glare. "Be good. I'll give you what you want."

"God you'd make a good demon," Tweek said. His cheeks were red, his cock standing hard against his stomach, begging to be touched. "C'mon, Craig, please."

That did it. Craig threw Tweek's legs over his shoulders, lined himself up and gently pressed in, Tweek's heat surrounding him. The pleasure was unimaginable, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Kenny had been good, the men before him, alright. This was different. It could have been because Tweek was a demon, or simply because he was Tweek, but the tightness, the softness surrounding him was something more. He gasped, his body starting to thrust before he even consciously knew he was doing it. Tweek moaned beneath him, knees clenching around Craig's body, pulling him in closer. Craig felt Tweek's soft breath on his neck, on his cheek. He gripped Tweek's shoulders for leverage, pistoning himself harder into Tweek, who didn't complain. Tweek's gasps grew higher, more frequent, and on instinct, Craig's hand closed around his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.

"I'm gunna come," Tweek gasped. Craig changed the angle of his thrusts, trying to hit the imp's g-spot. It took all of his effort to keep control as Tweek gasped and spasmed around him, warm cum splattering against Craig's stomach. Craig rode through it, managing not to finish.

"Can I keep going?" Craig asked, slowing. Tweek merely nodded, his eyes close, cheeks bright red, cock still spasming. Craig kept his thrusts slow, even, basking in the pleasure. Tweek moaned brokenly under him, and Craig pulled out reluctantly.

"I thought you wanted to keep going?" Tweek asked. Craig flipped him over easily, and his wings flapped up in surprise.

"I do," Craig said. "C'mon, get on your knees." Tweek complied, and Craig caught a real glimpse of his face for a moment in the dim light, hair plastered to his face, eyes glazed with pleasure. Craig gripped his hips and knelt behind him. He shoved himself inside without warning and fucked Tweek hard and fast. Tweek stayed still for a few minutes, still making that exhausted, gasping sound, that rocked through Craig like a drug. Then he arched his back, thrusting back to meet Craig with each thrust. They were both panting, Craig realized, both moaning, and Tweek was starting to twitch beneath him.

"Are you going to come again?" he asked, breathless. Every thrust nearly pushed him over the edge.

"I-I-" Tweek gasped, then he shuddered, and Craig's cock was squeezed rapidly. Tweek nearly screamed, and Craig finally let himself lose control. He came, deep inside Tweek, rutting hard into him and gripping Tweek's hips tightly, letting pleasure crash over him in waves that seemed to last for hours. Finally he let himself fall over, dragging Tweek with him, without pulling out. They lay there, panting, for several moments before either of them spoke.

"So... why the hell haven't we been doing this longer?"

"Stupid morals," Craig mumbled against Tweek's neck, holding him tightly to his chest. Tweek's wings folded around him like a bat's, and Craig stroked the outer edge of one. "Was that crazy for you?"

"Crazy," Tweek muttered. "You?"

"Yeah," Craig said. They sat in comfortable silence. Craig didn't want to break it, but he knew he had to. "You said you'd promise anything, right?"

"Yeah. Anything." Tweek stiffened. "What do you want?"

"I need to come tomorrow. To fight. I want to be beside you." Tweek sighed. For a moment, Craig thought he wouldn't answer.

"You're asking me to let you die."

"Maybe. I hope not."

"Craig- I can't let you do that. It's too much, too dangerous. I'm not going to-"

"Tweek, please."

"You can come. You don't fight. You come and watch, if you promise me you'll stay back, out of sight." Craig nodded obediently, crossing his fingers behind his back.

"Yeah. I promise. I just don't-"

"I know," Tweek grumbled. He pulled away, rolling onto his stomach. Craig met his eyes. "Craig?"

"Yeah?"

  
"I think I'm falling in love with you.” Craig didn't trust himself to respond. Not without bursting into tears or begging Tweek to stay with him, out of danger, in bed forever. So he merely scooted closer, pressing his body against Tweek's, and drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

He woke with Tweek's hair tickling his nose, the imp's head on his chest.  Craig's arms wrapped around Tweek, holding him tightly, for just a moment, content.  Then he started thinking. He lay worrying, eyes finding non-existent patterns on the ceiling, Tweek the only life vest against anxiety drowning him.  For the first time, he let himself realize it. He might not make it out of this. Tweek might not make it out of this. There might never again be another night like last night.  He frowned, pulling Tweek closer. The blond's eyes opened. Tweek blinked sleepily up at Craig, then buried his head back into Craig's chest. Craig's heart broke a little.

 

"Stop staring," Tweek mumbled.  

 

"I can't."  He didn't add, this might be the last chance I have.  They both knew that. Instead, he stroked Tweek's back, between where his wings protruded.  Tweek made a contented sound. "So. What are we going to do with our last moments?"

 

"I'm going to meet with my lieutenants.  You're going to stay here and be good." Craig scowled.

 

"I want to come with you."

 

"Of course you do.  But if I've got a human, a human who just fucked my brains out, no less, at that meeting I'll look weak.  You stay here. I'll come back soon." 

 

Tweek escaped his arms and dressed, giving Craig a wave before waltzing out the door.  Craig watched him go, sulking. He dressed himself and wandered around the house, looking for anyone he knew.  There was a bustle of activity, the higher ups sharpening their weapons and going over charts, but no one glanced at him twice.  Eventually he got bored and instead began searching for the kitchen. He left with a muffin. Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall.

 

"Hey Tweek," he said, once he was over the initial shock.  He walked with the imp, ignoring the strange looks they got.  "You know usually a hello is nice before you start accosting someone."

 

"No time.  I need you.  Now. Before this all- AH! Before it starts."  Craig felt a rush of warm excitement hit him. They sped up.  They barely made it through the door before Tweek pushed him back onto the bed.  Craig grinned and pulled Tweek toward him, pushing their lips together. Then something sharp pierced his neck.

 

"What...?" he asked, falling back onto the mattress, suddenly very dizzy.  Tweek pulled the needle from his neck and held it in front of his face. Craig swore, trying to sit up.   Black spots spun in front of his vision, and his limbs felt very, very heavy. "Tweek?"

 

"I'm sorry," Tweek said, face showing exactly how much he meant it.  "I'm sorry, Craig. But this is probably a suicide mission. And I can't- you can't die, okay?  Take care of yourself. Live well. I have men out looking for your Kenny. He'll be able to take you back to your world.  Think of me sometimes." Craig tried to speak, to cuss Tweek out or to beg him to stay, he wasn't sure, but his mouth wouldn't work right.  His muscles had turned to jelly, and he could do nothing but glare as Tweek gave him one last glance, then walked out the door, hands clenched into fists.  The black spots in his vision grew larger. His thoughts grew clouded and he slipped into a state of semi-awareness, somewhere between waking and sleeping, unable to move and unable to find the peace of unconsciousness.

 

He lay like that for hours, cursing the imp and his treachery, unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling.  He heard footsteps, and the door opened abruptly. He cursed his immobility. For all he knew, Tweek had doomed him right there.  The footsteps slowed, and a face swam in front of his.

 

"Heya, Pastor," Kenny said cheerfully.  "You look like you could use a hand." Another face appeared beside Kenny's, Tracks' face, grinning pleasantly.  Craig tried to smile back, to ask how they knew he was there, but he could just stare. A needle grazed his skin, then pushed into his neck, just below where the last one had gone, and he found he could wiggle his fingers.  Slowly, the black spots in his vision faded and his mobility returned.

 

"Kenny," he muttered as soon as he was able.  His tongue felt like it was moving through molasses.  "Thank fuck. Where have you been?"

 

"I got sent to Satan.  Not that I've been much help.  I am technically dead, unlike you.  I mostly just hung out and listened to his problems about his ex.  So your demon drugged you?"

 

"My demon drugged me," Craig said, lifting his heavy hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.  "And took off to die on some fools errand."

 

"It's not a fools errand," Tracks said.  "Saddam's on the hunt for something. Something called the Orb of Light.  If he gets it, he'll become more powerful than the devil himself. If he gets it, he wins the war.  If he gets it..." Tracks visibly shuddered. Craig rubbed his forehead.

 

"So where is it?  And why aren't we looking for it too?  Why attack outright?"

 

"Well we know where it is," Tracks explained, rubbing his stubble.  "We don't think they do. It's under the Styx. Ironically, just near where they're camped out.  Since there's no way to sneak past their camp without showing them the location, the Big Guy says we attack outright."

 

"The problem is they've got half their army camped out there.  And- well, we don't have more than a quarter of ours here. It's going to be a massacre.  But if we can find the orb we can save the war."

 

"What about me?  If they can use me to- to create soldiers or whatever-"

 

"That's why we're here," Kenny explained.  "We're going to need you, Craig."

 

"And here I was thinking you were here because you liked me."

 

"Well, that too," Tracks said, running a hand through his hair and glancing away.  Craig grinned. "If you're in on this, you've gotta know it's dangerous. You could-"

 

"Die.  I know.  That's all I've been hearing the last couple days.  I did it before, didn't I? I didn't die then. Hopefully I won't die now.  I'm willing to do it either way." Kenny clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Craig felt suddenly warm.

 

"God I'm glad you're my sister's pastor.  If she had one of those creepozoid Catholic guys...  You're like Jesus. But gay." 

 

"I don't even know what that means," Craig said, trying to keep his voice dignified.  He tried to pull himself to his feet, grimaced, and fell back onto the bed. "You might have to give me a minute."

 

"We don't have a minute.  C'mere." Tracks lifted Craig into his arms, carrying him like he was a baby.  Craig scowled, but didn't protest. He lifted his arm and threw it around the demon's shoulders with considerable effort.  "We're meeting Gargamuth by the banks. With any luck we can avoid the fighting and head straight for the river, but who knows what the situation is out there?"  

 

They walked through the now-empty house and back into the dim street.  Everything was deserted, dark, and eerily quiet compared to how Craig had seen it mere days ago.  Their footsteps echoed around the narrow passage as they walked through the cavern for miles and miles.  About an hour into the trek, Craig managed to walk alone, occasionally stumbling as his limbs relearned how to walk.  Finally, noise of the battle began to reach them. Kenny's face grew hard and drawn, for once his easy-going smile disappearing.  Tracks too grew serious, but he looked more worried than anything else as the passage opened up onto a huge cavern a hundred feet below them.  Craig sucked in a breath at the scene.

 

It was brightly lit by pillars of fire intermittently flaring up across the landscape.  As far as he could see, demons were fighting, bleeding, and dying in a chaotic cacophony of violence.  He couldn't tell which side was which or who was winning. It didn't seem to matter. The bloodlust consumed them all, on the ground, in the air, everywhere he could see.  The battlefield blazed with fire and the glint of metal. On the other side of the fighting, a wide, long, river wove through the rock, black and somehow out of place. 

 

"What's the plan?" Craig asked.  Kenny's jaw set.

 

"I go first.  I can't die. Not even in Hell.  We get down there the same way the others did-" he gestured toward a rickety-looking staircase carved into the rock.  "Then I guess we try not to die."

 

They made their way down the steps, Craig clutching Kenny's hand tightly as he tried to steady his legs.  They shook still, and he cursed Tweek's potion. It took them the better part of twenty minutes to make it down to the edge of the battlefield where injured demons staggered, holding various body parts and grimacing at the newcomers.  

 

"How goes the fight?" Tracks asked one.

 

"How does it fucking look like it's going?" the man on the floor gasped, holding a wide gash together with both hands.  Craig knelt beside him and ripped a strip from his own shirt. He wrapped it around the wound as tightly as he dared, hoping his first aid training was good enough to keep the demon alive... or as alive as demons could ever be.  "Look, Saddam's got this thing. This secret weapon that's decimating half our troops. Don't get too close to the front lines."

 

"Right," Craig said, patting the man on the shoulder.  They carried on. Craig kept his eyes peeled for Gargamuth, or someone else around that could make use of him before he was killed and it no longer mattered.  No one appeared. "Do either of you think you could do the... the juicebox thing?"

 

"The what?" Kenny asked.

 

"You know, the drainy thing.  Where we make soldiers or whatever."

 

"I watched it," Tracks said.  "When they did it before. I don't know if I could do it myself, but I did see it."

 

"I think we have to try.  If we don't find Gargamuth soon..."  Tracks sighed and extended his hand. Kenny looked on in apprehension as Craig gripped his hand.  "We need something with wings. Something that can get us to the river."

 

"I'll do my best," Tracks said.  They all looked at each other for a long moment, then Craig closed his eyes and fell back into his meditation, trying his best to ignore the noise around him as demons screamed and swords clashed.  It took him a few minutes to slip into the headspace he needed, but eventually he did. He began feeling the same sapping force he'd felt with Gargamuth, but this time was clumsier, more insistent, more dangerous.  He felt like his soul was leaving his body, but he stayed in his headspace, letting Tracks do his work. A few moments later, Kenny was shaking him awake.

 

"Craig are you okay?  You're pale. Paler than usual pale, I mean."  Craig blinked his heavy eyelids.

 

"M'okay.  Wasn't as bad as before.  Did it work?" He struggled to keep his eyes open.  Kenny gently turned his head. An eagle bigger than Craig's camry stood glaring at them, looking annoyed to be pulled from the ether.  "Someone's a Lord of the Rings fan."

 

"It was the first thing I thought of, mate," Tracks said, glaring dolefully.  "Come on, then. We need to make it to the Styx before anyone else gets the same idea."

 

Kenny snaked an arm around Craig's waist and helped him get to the bird.  He climbed up, clutching the feathers and earning himself an indignant squawk from the eagle.  The others followed close behind. 

 

"So- birdy... We want to avoid the fights in the sky, not engage.  Can you get us to the river? That water over there?" Craig asked, feeling stupid.  The bird squawked in response, but didn't move. He exchanged a glance with Kenny. "Sometime today would be nice.  Ya know, if you speak english."

 

The bird squawked again, and this time Craig felt like he was being chastised.  WIthout warning, it took off into the air, powerful wings beating on either side of Craig's legs.  He clung to the slippery feathers as tightly as he could, feeling himself slipping slightly. He was nearly jostled off by the wing beats, held in place only by Kenny's body behind him as the soared toward the ceiling of the cavern, over the fighting demons on the ground and around those in the air.

 

"Where the fuck did you get the eagle?" a flying imp shouted at them, right before his head was dislocated from his body.  Craig glanced around the air, trying to find their best course.

 

"We need to head east," Tracks yelled over the wingbeats.  "Avoid the fighting if you can. If you can't, I'll fight."  Craig glanced behind Kenny to see Tracks holding a shiny black knife.  They soared through the cavern, avoiding the demons chasing after them that could have been fighting on either side until they came across a wall of flying bodies grinning and brandishing claws and swords, blocking the path to the river.

 

"What's this, a human playing with demons?" one asked, his jaw flapping up and down comically.  Craig sucked in a breath.

 

"Guys, they're Canadians.  What-" A huge demon, twice the size of those around him at least, flew over the wall and grinned at them, mouth separating from the rest of his head as he laughed.

 

"That's right, buddy," the demon said, his tail whipping around his body frantically.  "You chose to fuck with the wrong demons, guy. Satan will never defeat us as long as I'm around."

 

"The Canadian devil," Tracks whispered, looking horrified.  "We're fucked."

 

"Quick, take my hand," Craig said, reaching behind Kenny to grip Tracks.

 

He shut his eyes once more, trying to ignore the Canadian taunting.  Something burning hot flew past his cheek, just missing him, and they flew sideways.   
  
"A bomb," Kenny squeaked.  "Make a bomb!"   
  
"Right," Tracks said.   
  
"You don't really think a bomb can defeat me, do you, guy?" the Canadian Devil asked.  "I'm the fucking devil."   
  
Craig tried to fall back into his meditation, he really did, but the demonic laughing surrounding them, the haphazard flight of their mount, and the shrieks of the Canadian devil were too much.  He kept his eyes squeezed shut and readied himself for death.   
  
"You're the _Canadian_ devil," a booming voice said.  The air grew silent and Craig opened his eyes a fraction of an inch to see what was going on.  A black chariot pulled by flying horses hovered beside the eagle. A giant red man with yellow horns and blood-thirsty eyes sat inside, holding a sword bigger than Craig's whole body.  He smelt fire and brimstone. Just the sight of the man was enough to make him shiver. "And you're not shit, Beelzaboot."   
  
"That's not true, buddy," the square devil said, scowling at them.  "I'm the real devil. You're some bullshit pretender who came along and impersonated me, friend."   
  
"I'm not your friend," Satan, for who else could he possibly be, said.  He turned to Craig, who averted his eyes on instinct. "Human, I need to use your body if I am to win this fight."  Craig nodded, still looking down at the ground battle at least a hundred feet below them. That seemed to be all the consent the devil needed.  He felt the strangest tingling sensation, as though his whole body had been doused in ice water from the inside, then he wasn't in control of his body anymore, he was a passenger, watching, experiencing, but entirely out of control.   
  
His head rotated 360 degrees and fire poured out of his mouth like vomit, sending the demons behind Beelzaboot scattering.  He levitated off the back of the eagle, sending the bird squawking and reeling in surprise, then floated to a foot or so from the Canadian devil.  There was no room in his mind for fear or confusion, only rage, rage seeping through him and pouring out his fingers in balls of flame.   
  
"Come on, guy," the Canadian Devil said, smile fading slightly.  A ball of fire shot out of his ass, and the brimstone smell in the air grew stronger.  "Can't we work this out peacefully?"   
  
"How did you get Saddam to go along with this?" Craig heard himself ask in a deep, low, voice.  His arm stretched out, very hot, and shot another arc of fire at the airborne demons, sending several falling, clawing at the air and screaming as they fell.  The Canadian Devil looked worried.   
  
"Hey, friend, I didn't start this, Saddam started this, guy.  I just went along with it because I was mad at you over my app scheme, buddy."  Craig reached forward and grabbed the devil by his neck. He shook it side to side, amazed at his strength, amazed that he could still see, could still feel just how Satan was using his body.     
  
"Where is he?"   
  
"Don't- don't hurt me, buddy," Beelzaboot gasped, clawing at Stan's hand.  "No fair! Using mortals is no fair!"   
  
"Where.  Is. He?"   
  
"He's- he's below," Beelzaboot said, wings sagging in defeat.  "He's trying to get to the river. But that's all I know. Let me go and I won't bug you again, guy."   
  
Craig- Satan- brought the demon close enough to kiss.  In a low, dark whisper, he said, "I'm not your guy, friend."  Holding the demon up with one hand, he brought the other to its left wing and ripped it off with one precise stroke.  The Canadian Devil screamed in unearthly pain, grabbing at the spot where his wing used to be. Black blood exploded from the hole.  Craig switched hands and reached for the other wing. Beelzaboot grabbed for his fingers, murmuring unintelligible pleas and curses. Craig felt nothing but rage as Satan brought his hand down and ripped the other wing off as though it were tissue paper, sending it hurdling toward the ground.  He held the devil's neck for a moment longer, squeezing it tight, then he released, watching the demon as he fell, shrieking, toward the cold rocks below. 

  
  
The ice flew out of Craig through his fingertips and he began to fall from the air.  He let out a startled yell, waving his arms like he was treading water, but the ground grew closer and closer.  He closed his eyes, saying a last prayer, though he wasn't sure who he was praying to. Then sharp claws dug into his back and the air was knocked out of him as he was pulled to a stop.  Craig took a few deep, shaky breaths, then without opening his eyes, reached out a hand. Kenny and Tracks pulled him back onto the eagle. When his butt was fully secure, he turned and hugged Kenny with all his strength until Kenny let out a small "oof."

  
  
"Sorry," he said.  "Thank you." He turned to Tracks.  "Both of you. I thought I was done for."

  
  
"I wouldn't have let that happen," said the deep booming voice that had come from his throat moments ago.  "You're too valuable."

 

"Satan," he gasped.  Again, he found himself lowering his eyes, though he wasn't quite sure why he couldn't look.  

 

"I've been watching you for some time, Craig Tucker," Satan said in his gravelly voice, pulling his chariot close to the eagle.  "You're a brave one. I'm glad you're here to fight beside us."

 

"When this is over, we're done," Craig said softly.  Satan nodded slowly, eyes never leaving Craig. 

 

"I understand.  But you'll stay until this is over?"

 

"I'll stay."

 

"Then go.  Get the orb and bring it to me.  I'll distract them. Good luck, my child."

 

"I'll never be your child," Craig said, still avoiding the devil's eyes.  Satan merely smiled at him, like he knew something Craig didn't, and took off toward the ground, standing in the chariot with his pitchfork raised and his eyes blazing fire.  Craig kicked the eagles thighs, earning a reproachful squawk, but the bird began to fly toward the river again. No one else tried to stop them as they dove, Craig's hair flying behind him, eyes squinted shut to keep out the wind.  They slowed abruptly and Craig nearly fell off the bird as it swooped to a stop beside the river.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The River Styx was as dark and foreboding as Craig had imagined it.  The water could have been black, or it could have just been reflecting the rock around it, but the effect was mirror-like, mysterious.  The river was wide enough that Craig couldn't see the other side through the dim light emanating from the battle. There was nothing in it, nothing on it, not even a toy sailboat.  Craig gulped.   
  
"We have to go inside there?" he asked.   
  
"Signs point to yes," Kenny said, mouth twisting into a half-smile.  "What's the plan?"   
  
"The plan is the human," Gargamuth said, emerging from the shadows.  Kenny jumped. "He'll have to create some sort of barrier around us so we can touch the water without dying."     
  
"Not dying is good," Kenny agreed.  "So what're you thinking, like a submarine?"   
  
"No," Tracks and Gargamuth shouted together.  Craig stepped back in alarm.    
  
"Metal dissolves in the styx.  We'd melt. Not metaphorically," Gargamuth explained, frowning and pushing his glasses back against his nose.  "We just need a tunnel. Should be fairly simple, it only needs to be forty feet deep or so."   
  
"Forty feet."  Craig struggled to keep his face neutral.  "Forty feet under water of a tunnel that can withstand forty fucking feet of pressure is simple to you."   
  
"It's going to be fine.  Besides, there are four of us here.  If you fall, we can still get there."  Craig gulped and stretched out his hand.   
  
"Wait- you're willing to kill someone to get to this thing?" Kenny asked.   
  
"If that's what it takes."   
  
"You're insane.  We're not doing that."   
  
"If it's what we have to do, Kenny-"   
  
"No.  I don't accept that.  Think of another idea."  Kenny crossed his arms and stared at Gargamuth.  The demon stared back for a moment, then sighed and looked away.     
  
"Fine."  They sat in silence for a few moments.     
  
"What if..." Tracks paused, face screwing up.  Craig stared at him expectantly. "What if you just made some sort of barrier.  Around one person. That'd be easier than something for all four, wouldn't it?"   
  
"Yeah, that could work," Gargamuth said slowly.  "Sure. But what?"   
  
"Isn't it obvious?" Tracks asked.  "Bubbles." Craig raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Huh."   
  
"That could work," Gargamuth said with more certainty.     
  
"Who knew you had brains in there?" Kenny asked, punching Tracks lightly on the arm.  Craig agreed, but kept his mouth shut.    
  
"Who goes?"   
  
"I do," Craig said.  The others laughed.   
  
"Always gotta be a hero," Kenny said.   
  
"You can't go," Gargamuth said, stopping mid-chortle.  "You've got to keep the shield up, and so do I. It's got to be one of the others."   
  
"I'll do it," Kenny said.  Tracks' face dissolved into relief.  "I'll be fine. Who cares if I die? I don't stay dead."   
  
"Kenny- are you sure you want to?"   
  
"Sure."  Kenny leaned in close to him, gazing into his eyes.  "But don't ever say I wasn't willing to die for you."  The last part was said in a whisper, with just a hint of bitterness to it.  Craig glanced up at him, frowning, but Kenny looked away. He shrugged and took the demon's hand.  When he felt part of him seep away, for the first time he enjoyed it.    
  
This time, he saw.  His vision grew deeper, more precise, the longer he spent in his trance, but at first, all he could see was water, dark and deep, and bubbles.  He began to feel the things Kenny felt. The cold deep of the water caressed his bones, and waves crashed around him, trying to pull him deeper, further into their depths.  Kenny resisted, safe within his bubble of solitude as he walked down the sand into deeper waters. Fish swam around him, curiously nipping at the bubbles as though they could pierce the shield and pose some sort of threat to Kenny himself.  Kenny didn't seem to mind. He let them bite the bubbles, his ankles, even around his face, chuckling softly and releasing a new wave of bubbles.    
  
Kenny walked along the bottom of the river, wincing as the sand turned to sharp black stone.  He didn't complain. How could he underwater? Craig felt the cold right along with him as the icy depths reached out to smother him.  Fish grew fewer and far between the further Kenny descended, and the seaweed grew more plentiful. It tangled around Kenny's ankles, slowing him as though it were saying "turn back."  Kenny didn't turn back. He pressed on with a bravery Craig could only dream of having. The waters grew darker until Kenny was caught in pitch-blackness, feet glued to the floor like he could lose it.  Hell, he could lose it. He could lose the ground, his direction... He could lose himself down there.   
  
Not that Kenny seemed to mind.  He whistled cheerfully, only pausing to draw breath, and walked slowly down.  Craig felt the water pulling at his legs, resisting him. Kenny didn't mind that either.  He walked onward, toward the bottom of the river. A light appeared ahead of him, dim and enticing.  At first Craig worried it could be one of those light-bulb fish, the kind that lured prey into their mouths with a dangling lit-up lure, but then he remembered those things lived at the bottom of the ocean, far deeper than forty feet under.  The light had to be something else. Kenny kicked off the bottom and swam towards it, his shield of bubbles following, protecting him from the dark waters all around. The light grew larger, stronger as they swam toward it. Then it split into several lights, and a small building with a round roof.  Kenny swam to the door, opened it after some struggle, and swam inside.    
  
The inside of the building was a small cathedral, with pews lining each side of the aisle.  Stained glass windows hung sparkling under the dim light of the under-water candles, depicting scenes of heroism and martyrdom.  Satan featured heavily in these, huge red body gleaming with power as he destroyed his foes. Kenny swam on, not seeming to care. He arrived at the front of the church where an altar stood, wooden and unchanged by the river or time.  He stood beside it, seeming not to know what to do.   
  
"So, uh.  God? If you're around?  Or Satan? Whoever can help me find this orb shit?  That would be nice," Kenny said, resting his hands across the altar and waiting.  Nothing happened. Kenny waited a few more minutes, then began to swim again, down the pews, looking under them.  Finding nothing, he swam toward the ceiling and prodded at the crystal chandelier, huge and glistening as it swung slowly back and forth under the weight of the current.  Kenny found nothing there either. He returned to the floor, slowly walking down the aisles, frowning in puzzlement.    
  
A sacrifice is needed, a booming voice said, echoing around the church.   
  
"A sacrifice?" Kenny's bubbling voice asked.  "What kind of sacrifice?" The church fell silent once more.  Kenny swam back to the altar, looking lost. Then he glanced back to the wood.  There was a silver knife sitting atop it that certainly hadn't been there before.  Craig would have remembered it. Kenny's face screwed up.   
  
"Really?  A fucking blood sacrifice?  How cliche is this place?" No one answered him.  Kenny sighed, scowling as he picked up the knife. He drew it across his palm in a practiced, smooth motion, then placed his hand atop the carved wood.  For a moment, Craig thought nothing would happen. Then the church began to shake, water rippling around Kenny as the altar melted away into the water. It dissolved, one piece at a time, as Kenny floated, watching with disgust.  When the ripples cleared, the altar was entirely gone. All that remained was a glass sphere that could have fit in Craig's hand, shimmering in the dim light.    
  
"That was stupid," Kenny shouted.  "You're stupid, whoever designed this."  The temple held its silence. Kenny grabbed the orb without ceremony, thrusting it into his jacket pocket.  He took a deep breath, then began swimming breast stroke towards the door. Nothing stopped him as he left.  Apparently temples in Hell weren't offended by blasphemy. Craig took in a few deep breaths, focusing on the bubbles of air, just in case they decided to desert Kenny at this critical juncture.  They didn't. They hung around him like fireflies, defying physics, letting him breathe. Kenny swam out of the church and toward the surface, kicking hard and moving quickly. It only took a few minutes for him to breach the surface, gasping and spitting out geysers of black water.  Craig's eyes snapped open, and he watched, really watched this time, as Gargamuth and Tracks pulled his friend out of the river.   
  
"Did you get it?" Gargamuth asked once Kenny was safely on the banks.   
  
"Did I get it?  No, 'Thanks for risking your life, Kenny,' or a 'God, I hope you're okay, Kenny.'  Just 'Did you get it?' Fucking typical."   
  
"Thanks for risking your life, Kenny," Craig said solemnly, subduing his grin.  Kenny rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue like a petulant child on the playground, but he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the glass ball.     
  
"Here.  Since that's all you fuckers care about."  Craig grabbed the ball before anyone else could move.  He held it up to the light of the burning battle field and stared deep within the crystal.  It wasn't very impressive. Just a simple glass orb.    
  
"Are you sure this is the orb of light?" he asked.  Kenny scowled. "I'm just saying, it doesn't exactly look very... well, light...y."   
  
"If you guys want to go back down there and make sure I didn't miss anything, be my guest," Kenny said, wringing water from his shirt.  "But it's not a great time down there. There are blood-thirsty sharks. And- and evil mermaids."   
  
Craig rolled his eyes.  "Right. Well. Good job, I think."   
  
"We've got to give this to the Big Guy.  Like an hour ago," Gargamuth said, eyes wide.  "We've gotta move fast."   
  
"Jesus, give him a minute to catch his breath," Craig said, putting a hand on Kenny's back as he coughed up another mouthful of water.  The demon winced.   
  
"Don't say that name down here.  It's bad luck. And blasphemy, not to mention."  He shifted his weight from side to side, eyeing them wearily.  "You can have a minute. Just one. Then we need to go."   
  
"Thanks, boss," Tracks said, taking a step to stand in front of Craig, presumably hiding his glare.  "So what exactly does this thing do?"   
  
"That's not for us to know," the magician snapped.  "We need to find Satan. Now." The eagle squawked as though in agreement, spreading its huge wings for a moment before folding them back against his body.   
  
"Alright," Craig said, clinging to the orb in his pocket.  "So we- what, we fly back across the battlefield and hope we don't die on the way?"    
  
"That's the general plan," Gargamuth agreed.  Kenny and Craig exchanged a look. Kenny sighed, pulling himself to his feet.   
  
"Alright then.  Let's go, Gandalf."  Kenny patted the eagle's orange beak.  It stared at him disdainfully. Craig gave him a questioning look.  "What? It's a good a name as any." Gandalf lowered his shoulders, allowing them to climb on.  It was a tighter fit with four of them, but they managed to make it work. Gandalf leaped into the air without warning, and Craig gripped a handful of his feathers to keep himself onboard.  Kenny's arms wrapped around his waist, and a jolt ran through him that had nothing to do with the flight. He leaned back into Kenny's damp, cool touch on instinct, still gripping the feathers with all his strength.   
  
They were met with no resistance as they flew back to the other side of the battlefield.  Gandalf landed beside a huge black tent where wounded demons paraded in, some carrying their comrades, others solely dragging themselves.     
  
"I'm going to call the Master," Gargamuth said, scowling at Kenny.  "Don't be alarmed." Craig slid down from the eagle, offering a hand to Kenny, who took it, and Tracks, who didn't.  They waited in silence as Gargamuth pulled a cell phone from his pocket and held it to his ear. Craig tried his best not to be alarmed, grinning at Kenny.  The demon spoke quickly, and within minutes, Satan flew towards them on his black chariot, demonic horses neighing in the air. A retinue of demons flew in front of him, guarding him from the onslaught from the other side until he arrived in their more peaceful airspace and landed beside them.   
  
"Well?  Did you get it?" he asked, face taut with anticipation.     
  
"Oh we got it," Gargamuth said, smiling unpleasantly.   
  
"I got it," Kenny muttered under his breath, shooting a glance at the demon.   
  
"Where is it?"   
  
"Human, show him."  Craig lifted the orb from his pocket just enough for Satan to see it, then let it fall back.   
  
"Give it to me," Satan said impatiently, holding out his hand.   
  
"No," Craig replied.   
  
"No?" Satan asked.   
  
"No.  I don't know what this thing does.  Maybe I'm giving you the key to overthrowing the mortal world.  I can't do that." Satan's mouth hung open, and Craig got the impression that he wasn't refused often.     
  
"Then why did you even get it in the first place?"   
  
"Am I invisible here?" Kenny grumbled.   
  
"I got it to turn the tide of this war.  I'm willing to use it to help. I'm just not going to give it to you."   
  
Satan's eyes grew dark and two fireballs appeared in his hands.  He bared his pointed teeth and puffed up his chest, the epitome of evil.  Craig took a few deep breaths and said a silent prayer, knowing it wouldn't be answered, but finding it comforting nonetheless.  "I could strike you dead where you stand, mortal."   
  
"I have to hope that you won't," Craig said.  "Because a demon called Tweek is important to both of us, and if you kill me, he won't be thrilled about helping you in this war."   
  
"I've known Tweek for centuries more than you, mortal," Satan said, but his eyes darted between Craig and the ground.  The fireballs extinguished. "How are you going to use the orb? You don't even know how it works!"   
  
"Teach me," Craig said.  He frowned as he caught sight of the battlefield over the Devil's shoulder.  Demons were running toward them in waves, unorderly lines of them staggering together.  "We have a problem." 

 

The others whipped around to look at the army of enemies approaching, weapons raised, battle-cries echoing over the black expanse.  

 

"Get in the chariot," Satan boomed, ushering them forward.  "And get these boys swords. Mortal, give the orb to your friend if you insist on keeping it.  I need you with the wizard. And if you die, I'll not have the orb lost." They ran forward, leaping onto the cart.  Satan cracked his whip and the horses sprang into the air. Craig slipped the orb to Kenny, who held it tightly beneath his shirt, sitting down as the others sprang into action.  Someone slid a sword into Craig's hands and he stared at it dubiously. 

 

"Only if all else fails," Satan said.  "Until then, you're with Gargamuth. Get started, wizard, we're on a schedule."  The ground wave of demons had reached them, leaping toward the chariot and brandishing swords and pitchforks.  The sky wave was still deterred by Satan's soldiers, but they were pushing forward, gaining once more. Gargamuth grabbed at Craig's hand and he slid into his trance effortlessly, feeling power rush from him.  He took a deep breath and prepared himself for the coming battle, trying not to think about where Tweek was, why he hadn’t come with Satan.

  
  



End file.
